By the Light of the Moon
by MoriasDepths
Summary: She was a teacher, not a mother. But in the aftermath of a Death Eater attack, Minerva McGonagall found herself rearing two orphaned werewolf boys as her own, one of whom the darkness would do anything to destroy...Harry Potter. AU.
1. Watcher

None of the characters intruduced in this story so far belong to me; I'm just borrowing them for a little bit. Promise to put them back.

As this is the first _chaptered_ story I have attempted, I would appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer. Thank you, and please enjoy.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall circled the small house carefully, looking around for the best vantage point. A tree in the yard looked promising, but it was somewhat too far from the occupied part of the house to allow easy eavesdropping. A window ledge was regretfully discarded as being too obvious if it became necessary to remain for a while. In the end, she settled on the stone wall running beside number four, Privet Drive.

It took only a few minutes of listening to realize that Petunia Dursley had heard nothing concerning her sister. Minerva found that a source of hope, as the Ministry was always very careful to notify any relatives in the event of a violent death. Maybe, just maybe, the Potters hadn't been involved after all, and Hagrid had been mistaken on that point.

Hours passed, and Minerva grew steadily more annoyed with Petunia. The woman had absolutely no idea how to take care of a child. And her son was just the type of boy to take advantage. By lunchtime, Minerva was openly considering switching back to her human form long enough to Conjure a pair of earmuffs. In the end, the only thing that prevented the deed was the fact that anyone with the brains to fill a thimble would think a cat with clothing unusual. Minerva growled deep in her throat and took a savage pleasure in watching young Dudley shower his mother with his lunch.

Vernon Dursley came home during the heat of the afternoon, with a somewhat distracted look on his face. While he seemed to listen to his wife's monologue on the day's happenings, Minerva couldn't help but notice that he didn't seem to be taking in anything that Petunia said. The observation became all the more firm when it took Vernon several minutes to notice that Dudley was ramming a large toy truck into his father's leg.

The evening news turned out to be very interesting, with the Muggle commentators discussing everything from meteor showers to flocks of owls. From what was said, Minerva rather suspected that nearly the entire wizarding world was involved in one giant celebration. She shook her head in frustration. Yes, You-Know-Who might actually be gone, but that didn't mean there weren't others waiting to take his place. And probably half mad, to boot…. She forced her thoughts onto a more cheerful track.

Night fell, and still no sign of anyone out of the ordinary. Minerva rocked back and forth slightly in an attempt to ease some especially stiff muscles. For Merlin's sake, she was going on seventy; why on Earth was she perched on a wall next to a house where absolutely nothing was happening? She might as well head back to Hogwarts where she was supposed to be, and where Albus was probably wondering where she had gotten off to. And then there was a soft popping noise down the street.

Albus Dumbledore gave the area a cursory glance, then proceeded to put out the lights overhead. Finished with that, he calmly walked over and sat down next to her. Feeling oddly annoyed, Minerva changed back to human, wincing slightly at the pain the shift in position offered. Much to her further frustration, Albus only seemed interested in chit-chat, which offered no clue as to the worries that had plagued her all day. In the end, she brought it up herself. "The owls are nothing next to the _rumors_ that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

The very fact that Albus was refusing to meet her gaze alarmed her even more. Oh, please; not them, not them. Afraid of what she was about to hear, she pressed on. "What they're _saying_, is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are…" she couldn't make herself say it, "that they're--_dead_."

Albus bowed his head. It was all the answer she needed. She closed her eyes in pain. That young pair, so happy, so in love, and they were gone, just like that. An odd numbness spread through her as she questioned Albus further, confirming everything that had been whispered about by people who hadn't known the couple. And then he said something that shocked her out of her trance.

"You don't mean-you can't mean the people who live _here_? Dumbledore-you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son", she was unable to keep the contempt out of her voice at this point, "I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

Yet in the end, nothing that she could say would change his mind. And before she could marshal a second round of arguments, Hagrid quite literally dropped out of the sky with Harry. Yet that shock was nothing compared to her first look at the boy. His peaceful face was a direct contrast to the raw cut on his forehead. She felt an angry desire to heal it properly, to do away with it altogether. Harry had suffered enough, did he have to grow up dealing with the teasing and staring that would inevitably occur?

And yet she did nothing aside from gently touching his cheek before Albus laid Harry down on the doorstep. Minerva's face twisted slightly as she stared at the letter tucked next to the boy, as if anything it said could possibly explain what all had happened. She forced herself not to think of how Petunia Dursley would react the next morning. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

When Albus finally spoke, his voice sounded tired. "Well, that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." She nodded in answer, not trusting herself to speak. Transforming back into her cat shape, she turned and slowly glided away, trying not to listen as Hagrid kicked the motorcycle back to life, perhaps somewhat harder than he would ordinarily have. Even as she rounded the street-corner, she heard the soft sound that meant Albus had left. She slammed to a halt, every instinct in her body demanding that she go back and rescue Harry from the people he had been left with, people who probably wouldn't even _try_ to protect him if the need arose. Turning, she stared back at the house, her eyes burning with the desire to _do_ something.

Obedience finally won out, and she slumped in her place. Then a thought struck her and she sat up. Changing one more time into a woman, she liberated her wand from underneath her robes. A thought and a sharp flick of her wand sent a soft yellow light in the direction of the house, causing it to glow for a couple seconds. A watery smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, then she turned on the spot and vanished.


	2. Gubraithian Fire

I'd like to thank Quillian and Elizabeth Therisa for reviewing, it was really heartening. Hope you like where this is going.

* * *

Days became weeks, which in turn became months, and still there was no sign that anyone had divined Harry's whereabouts. The shock over the Potter's deaths and the Dark Lord's subsequent disappearance receded and finally was overshadowed by more recent news tidbits. Life went on, and the cautions of the past were slowly discarded. Though a few, Albus Dumbledore being among the most vocal, spoke against lowering protections overmuch, they were dismissed as Doomsayers and largely ignored. People who had just emerged from the shadow had no wish to retain any trace of it in their lives.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall lay in her bed perusing the March issue of Transfiguration Monthly, blithely overlooking the fact that it was now June. To be honest, she hadn't had much free time lately, not with all the homework that needed to be graded combining with students infected with Spring Fever. In the end, she had finally just decided to declare one particular Saturday her day off. Hence the piles of magazines next to her bed, some dating back to January. It also explained the look of utter relaxation that currently resided on her face. 

But all things had to come to an end, and presently, the alarm clock that she had set to midnight went off. With a sigh of regret, Minerva set aside the magazine with a carefully placed bookmark and then put out the candles. With a slight smile lingering on her lips, she drifted off into a light doze. For about ten minutes.

A pale yellow light illuminated the bedroom, then flickered to nothingness. Minerva lifted her head from the pillow and looked quickly about, praying that she had merely been dreaming. There was a moment when nothing happened, then the light reappeared, rising to a lantern's glow then fading away in a steady cycle. Minerva cursed and hurled herself out of bed, grabbing her wand as she went. Without even pausing to grab a change of clothing, she switched to her cat form and dove for the stairs leading to the Main Doors. All through the long run to the Gates, she kept wishing that Albus had allowed even one Apparation point inside the grounds.

After a few minutes that seemed an eternity, she finally reached the edge of the Apparation Shield and skidded to a halt even as she untransfigured; an action that forced her to grab the nearest gatepost to keep from falling over. Focusing her mind firmly on number four, Privet Drive, she vanished.

Minerva emerged on the edge of a scene from Hell. The Dark mark floated in the sky over a burning house. Tongues of fire licked the sky, an inferno that burned with the eerie blue glow that bespoke Gubraithian fire, the everburning flames. Yet there was still hope, for it hadn't spread over the entire house yet. Minerva ran for the entrance, following the desperate shrieks of a child within.

The door looked as though it had been blasted off its hinges, but there was no further damage in the hall beyond. Minerva rather suspected that once the Death Eaters had made their entrance, they had moved speedily to prevent the unfortunate inhabitants from making their escape.

Dudley's howls of fear echoed over the crackling of the flames, and an icy feeling gripped Minerva as she realized what was missing. There was only the one voice. Where was Harry? She finally located the stairs and sprinted up them, pausing halfway at the soft sound of a whimper. Unfortunately, it wasn't repeated, and she couldn't get a bearing on it. Cursing under her breath, she ran up the remaining steps two at a time.

Her first impression of the hallway was of blood. Petunia and Vernon Dursley's bodies lay on the floor, obviously dead. Minerva was forced to look away for a moment. Nothing they could possibly have done would have deserved this. An especially loud cry from Dudley yanked her out of her reverie,and afew quick steps brought her to the end bedroom.

Dudley huddled in the middle of the floor, crying with pain and fear and covered with blood from a nasty wound in his side. She scooped him up and he huddled against her with a sob. A quick check through the rest of the bedrooms revealed no sign of the other boy. Fighting down near-panic, Minerva forced her voice to behave. "Dudley, where's Harry?"

There was no sign that boy had understood her, so she tried again. "Dudley, I need to know where Harry is. Where did they take him?" Dudley muttered something indistinct and buried his head against her chest. A few more tries got a more definite reply, but nothing she could make sense of. "Cubbd?", she muttered to herself. Then, "Cupboard!", as a sudden vision of the door under the stairs flashed into her mind. Minerva turned and half-ran for the stairs once more, careful to shield Dudley from the sight of his parents.

Once at the door, Dudley glanced around and said, "Hawwy," very definitely. A quiet whimper from within confirmed the information, but it didn't do her any good, as the door was locked and refused to respond to Alohomora. Forcing calm, she went over her options, trying to ignore the blue fire that was taking hold at the top of the staircase. The house looked as though it could flash at any moment.

She backed as far she dared and put a Shielding Charm up. Gritting her teeth, she snarled out a Summoning Spell. The door exploded at her in a shower of splinters and bounced off of the shield. Minerva ran to the huddled figure lying on a lumpy mattress and checked him over. Like Dudley, Harry seemed unhurt except for a wound on his shoulder that looked as though something had chewed on him. Minerva carefully picked him up and carried him out into the hallway where she could straighten.

A shower of yellow sparks exploded from the wall as some wires shorted out, bathing the three in pinpricks of heat. The blue flames licked up the walls and ate into the ceiling all around. The heat was immense, and the air almost unbreathable. Focusing desperately on the gates of Hogwarts, Minerva turned on her heel and disappeared into the ether. Seconds later, the house reached the explosion point.


	3. What they don't know

Thank you all, thank you! I'm blushing.

* * *

Orange flames crackled merrily in the fireplace, bathing the room in a warm glow. Yet Minerva kept drifting back, seeing the blue inferno eating away at the doomed house, hearing the terrified screamsfrom one of the boys trapped within, the soft whimpers of the other. The cousins were presently asleep on a mattress next to the sofa, but her mind couldn't helpremembering the inhuman look the blue light had given them. She could still hear the triumphant roar of fire unleashed. A gentle tapping sound drew her back to the present.

Albus walked quietly into the room and sank into one of the easy chairs, being careful not to disturb the sleeping figures near Minerva's feet. She shook her head. "Don't worry, Poppy dosed both of them with a Sleeping Potion. They won't wake until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest."

He nodded. "As well. How are they?"

An icy hand took a grip on her insides. "They're…well, they're not fine, but she says they will be. Harry hasn't been starved, but it doesn't look as though he'd been getting quite as much to eat as he should have been. No signs of abuse, not that I'd expected any." From somewhere far away, she was aware that her voice was rising and that she was speaking very rapidly. There was something else, but shedidn't dare say it or it would become real. "It seems Dudley's got an allergy to soy. That may explain why he's so cranky; it's because he feels miserable all the…"

"They're both werewolves. Neither passed the silver test. There's nothing Poppy could do." Remus looked up from his chair next to the fireplace. He offered an apologetic look to Minerva, but continued to address Albus. "On the positive side, it looks as though their injuries will heal as well as a werewolf bite can. Better yet, both of them were bitten in places that robes will hide."

Minerva's head snapped up. "That's not true! The moon wasn't anywhere _near_ full tonight. There's no way they could have been infected."

Remus' face was very still but his voice showed the strain he was feeling. "I take it that you've forgotten Cassie, then."

Albus raised his hand to still her reply. "Not forgotten, Remus, but never knew." He turned to his deputy director. "Minerva, the woman he just referred to was a werewolf friend of his who used to work at the Malfoy Manor. In exchange for a steady job, she agreed to take an experimentalpotion that forced the change on a nightly basis. So yes, I'm afraid that it is very much possible that a werewolf could have bitten them."

Minerva felt her world crashing down on her for the second time that night. Why? Why had this had to happen? It wasn't fair, Harry wasn't even two yet.

She wasn't aware that she'd been speaking aloud until Albus answered her. "I'm afraid that all of this is speculation, but I believe that the attackers didn't dare kill Harry for fear of bringing Voldemort's fate down on them. Remember, no one really knows why that curse backfired in the first place. As for Dudley's survival, we may never know their reasoning. For the time being, I am allowing myself to settle for being thankful."

Minerva took in a shuddering breath as Albus went on. "There is something I have been wondering about, however. How did you know to visit the house at that particular time, Minerva?"

It was hard meeting his gaze, but as long as Harry and Dudley were sprawled on the floor, it was worse looking there. "The night you left Harry in Petunia and Vernon's care, I kept worrying about his safety. I…wasn't sureif they'd be able to protect him, so I placed an alarm on the house so that I'd know if someone entered without the Dursley's permission."

"I see. I take it that the spell was undetectable until it was triggered?"

"Yes."

A slight smile touched his lips. "It seems I owe you a debt, then. I chose not to place any such protection on the house for fear of attracting attention by those wondering at magical traces on a Muggle building." Seeing her expression, he held up a hand. "Relax, I am not blaming you. A spell such as that one would not have shown up on any magical scanner. Believe me, if the Death Eaters had had any idea that you were on your way, they would have made quite sure that the boys were dead well before your arrival."

Remus spoke up for the second time. "That's all very well, but what now? Considering their present condition, you can't exactly foist them off on some unsuspecting family, whether magical or not. And what's to stop tonight's attackers from simply finding them again?"

A blaze of anger rose in Minerva. "Harry and Dudley died in the fire. I see no reason to tell anyone that the two were rescued."

Albus smiled suddenly, and when the expression faded, he didn't look quite as tired as he had before. "Quite right, my dear Professor. And I take it from your vehemence that you were planning on keeping an eye on them yourself?"

"I…what?"

"My apologies, then, but it does seem as though you have some quite unique qualifications in this case. If I might bring up a tender subject, you did raise a daughter, whom, I believe, later married and moved away to Australia."

A familiar wave of pain went through her. "Yes, Caroline. She and her husband died a couple years ago in an accident."

"My apologies. But I don't believe that that fact was well known. So if the unfortunate couple were to die in, say, another month and leave you as the only person with a claim on their two small children…." His voice trailed off inquiringly.

Minerva sat up indignantly, ready to start in on why there was no way his crazy idea could possibly work. Then her mouth snapped shut. It was insane, but then again… "They would have to have new identities. Dudley might could get away with using his own face, but I wouldn't want to take the chance. And Harry looks far too much like James." She closed her eyes, thinking. "Dark hair for Dudley, I think, though not quite black. And Harry…maybe a dark blonde, with some traces of auburn. He'll need a glamour over that bloody scar. And off-blue eyes for both of them."

Albus gave her a questioning look and Minerva hastened to explain. "Both Caroline and Ralph had blue eyes. Besides, those green eyes are a dead giveaway."

Albus nodded, seeming somewhat bemused. "And what about names?"

Remus, who had been listening silently through all of this, spoke up. "How about James and Terrence? Terry for short."

Minerva frowned. "I don't know. Terrence was Vernon's middle name, right? As for James, please tell me you're joking."

Remus snorted. "I'll bet you nobody knows Mr. Dursley's _first_ name, much less his second. So that one's safe. And come on, James is a really common name. If Harry's going to look as different as you've just been talking about, nobody'll give him a second thought."

Minerva shook her head. "There's another reason. Caroline and Ralph's last name was Evans."

The werewolf winced visibly. "Ouch! I see. All right, any other ideas?" He paused and thought for a minute. "Then again…"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Names and disguises were bandied about for the next few hours, as the three figured out exactly how this was going to work. Albus tried to bring Snape in at one point, but was quickly overruled by Minerva, who was starting to realize the power of being Guardian of Record. Minerva herself wavered over Hagrid, but finally shook her head when she remembered the last time he had tried to keep a secret.

In the end, it was decided that only herself, Albus, Remus, and Poppy would know the truth about James and Terry Evans. The boys themselves slept peacefully on the mattress by the sofa, oblivious to the storm of talk that was outlining their future.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Albus Dumbledore paused for a moment at the staff door to the Great Hall and took in a deep breath. However necessary, this wasn't going to be easy. He pushed down on the door handle and stepped through.

One look around at the supposedly breakfasting students told him that the news had already traveled. At every one of the student tables, little knots had formed around some boy or girl lucky enough to have subscribed to the Daily Prophet. Anxious voices could be heard, and there were several people in tears. At the staff table, he saw Professor Flitwick leaning over Professor Sprout's shoulder. On her other side, Professor Snape was surreptitiously glancing over at the paper while pretending he was focusing on his cereal. He wasn't succeeding very well, his last two spoonfuls had been scooped from a spot well to the left of his bowl. Albus strode over to his seat and tapped his glass with a fork. No sense putting this off any longer.

Frightened faces looked up at him, as if hoping he was about to tell them that somehow, the Prophet had been mistaken. And while it was, there was no way he could tell them that. He cleared his throat.

"Our world was dealt a horrible blow this morning. As you all have been reading, the courageous family that agreed to adopt young Harry Potter was attacked by Death Eaters in the early hours of the morning. Regrettably, there were no survivors. The Ministry is presently looking for clues as to the attackers' identities, but evidence is limited owing to the fact that a piece of Gubrathian fire was let loose in the house. The Ministry is asking that anyone who hears anything at all that has to do with the case to please come forward."

"They have also decreed that there will be a moment of silence at noon today in honor of the young man who will never be." Albus spoke on, watching each young face carefully. Shock and horror seemed mirrored everywhere. Finally, he reached the second part of his speech, the one that would tell whether the deception they had created would stand or not.

"There is another announcement. As some of you may have noticed, Professor McGonagall is not with us this morning. She was among those few to know Harry Potter's location, and, as part of the protection placed upon him, she had created an alarm that would inform her if anyone wishing the family harm entered the house. Unfortunately, the first thing the attackers did was to place several Dampening Charms. The alarm did eventually go off, but not in time. When she arrived, the house was engulfed in flames."

"A Healer has stated that she will recover, but that she needs rest. I will be taking over her classes for the remaining week of the semester, so you need not fear for the results of your examinations." The rest of the speech was mostly words of comfort. He wished he didn't feel so guilty about telling this particular lie. Thinking of the orphaned boys helped somewhat. Whatever else happened, he would not allow them to lose anyone else close to them.


	4. Transformations

Thank you all very much for the review love. Just a warning, I'm moving this weekend, so the next update may be a few days. Thanks again for reading.

* * *

The boys had finally awakened, and Minerva was starting to remember why she had only had the one child.

Dudley was screaming at the top of his lungs and refused to be comforted. Harry, on the other hand, was sitting quietly in the middle of the floor, staring into the distance. The slightest touch caused him to shiver and move quickly away. Not even Remus had been able to get the boy to show any signs of life. And nobody had felt like eating anything, with the predictable result that tempers were getting a little frayed. Particularly when a certain somebody refused to use the boys' new names…

"REMUS LUPIN, IN CASE YOU'VE FORGOTTEN, HIS NAME IS JAMES! IF I DIDN'T KNOW BETTER, I'D SAY YOU WERE _TRYING_ TO GET THEM DISCOVERED!"

Remus was somewhat quieter, but only because he was already hoarse. "I'D LIKE TO KNOW HOW YOU PROPOSE I REASSURE HIM WHEN I'M USING A NAME HE HAS NO IDEA BELONGS TO HIM! AND FOR YOUR INFORMATION, I HAVE QUITE A BIT OF INTEREST IN KEEPING THESE BOYS WELL HIDDEN! AND WHILE WE'RE ON THAT…OH, GREAT, YOU'VE MANAGED TO SET HARRY OFF NOW!"

"_I _SET HIM OFF? _YOU_ WERE THE ONE SHOUTING WHEN HE STARTED CRYING!"

Remus slammed his fist on the table as he opened his mouth to retort, but all that came out was a yelp of pain. There had been a fork right where he had struck the tabletop. Shock on both sides suddenly gave way to rather hysterical laughter. Clinging weakly to the wall, Minerva wiped tears out of her eyes.

"Come on, I think we'd all feel a little better if we had…" she paused to look up at the clock, "supper."

Remus blinked. "It's that late already? Tell you what, I'll cook and you tell me the menu." He sniffed. "And while we're on the subject, I think there's a nappy that needs changing."

"Deal. But I'd like to know how cooking relates to diaper-changing."

Minerva tuned his blithe answer out in favor of watching the boys. Remus was stepping over to the stove and had pulled his wand out. Neither boy seemed able to take their eyes off of him, and Harry was looking rather pale…

"Remus, put your wand away, now!"

He jumped. "Why, what's wrong?"

She nodded at the two motionless figures. "They're afraid. I think they're remembering the attackers."

Remus hissed through his teeth and quickly hid his wand. "Great. If I ever get my hands on those…erm, blokes I'll…never mind, I can't say it in present company." He took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself. "All right, guess it's time to show you all how to cook the Muggle way. What do you have that's simple?"

Minerva turned and started going through her pantry. "There's always macaroni and cheese. Not high cuisine, but Harr…oops, I mean, James and Terry ought to like it. Aha! Got a few eggs. Don't werewolves need more protein than most people?"

Remus nodded absently while starting a pan of water boiling. Both boys had calmed down somewhat and Terry was examining a rather large imp hole in the baseboard. James suddenly toddled over to Minerva and grabbed her around the legs. She scooped him up and fussed with his hair, relieved that the boy was still capable of trust. A foul odor wafted into the air and she winced. Time to change that nappie.

* * *

Two weeks later, Minerva stood in the middle of the Shrieking Shack and made a mental note to have Albus put some insulation in it. While things were fine now, it would be bloody miserable come wintertime. And from the looks of things, they would be using it quite a bit in the years to come… 

James and Terry sat in the middle of the floor looking about in bewilderment. Neither seemed quite sure just what they were doing in this place, though both seemed rather impressed by a practically destroyed table nearby. James was now running his fingers over some of the more striking tooth marks and Terry was trying to separate a splintered dowel from the one table-leg it was still attached to.

Minerva sighed and wished that she had been able to persuade Remus to join them. Still, he had had some rather convincing arguments against it, chiefly that there was no way to know in advance how he might react to two wolf cubs, and didn't want to take the chance thathe might kill them. Further, as he had pointed out, while Animagi were immune to a werewolf's bites, it was probably still a good idea to get the boys used to her while they remained small enough to not be able to do much damage. He had then refused comment on how he had come by that last bit of advice.

Terry had stopped breaking the dowel and was starting to shiver. James, while still determinedly attempting to climb a ruined bookshelf, wasn't looking much better. She walked over and plucked the boy up, then sat down next to Terry.

The moon wasn't visible from inside the shack, but she found that she had a pretty good idea of where it was anyway. Both boys were trembling and whimpering a little in fear. It grew worse as the moon neared the horizon, and then suddenly both of them arched back in a great muscle spasm. Fur sprouted at nightmare speed and there were audible cracks as bones and muscles reshaped themselves. All she could do was hold them and try to let them know that someone was there. And then it was over.

Minerva hastily put down both wolf cubs and changed into her cat form. It was none too soon, both James and Terry were starting to stir. The first thing she did was to look them over. While both glamours had survived the transformation, they look decidedly out of place on a pair of wolf cubs. Minerva sighed and resolved to research another that would work during the full moon. Other than that, though…

Both pups had hair the same color as they did in their new identities. Terry's dark fur looked rather good on him. However, James looked rather odd with blonde fur and an apparent patch of human skin on his forehead where his scar should be. Oh well, it wasn't like anyone was going to be disturbing them tonight, anyway. And next moon she'd be more prepared. Looked like the Shrieking Shack was about to regain its reputation for being haunted.

There was a shrill yelp as James seized Terry's tail and tried to drag him backwards. A second later, James found Terry snapping at his front paw. The two pups rolled over and over on the floor. Cat instincts rose within Minerva and she didn't try to suppress them. She crouched down, snuck a little closer, then pounced on the pair. Within seconds, there was a three-way mock battle going.

Minerva hadn't known what to expect, butnothing her imagination had conjured up came close to this. Neither boy seemed interested in fighting or attacking, they just wanted to play. It seemed that the other stuff was something that they grew into. Or maybe it was caused by the social isolation that a werewolf almost always underwent. It was something to ask Poppy about, anyway. But in the meantime, there was a perfectly good tail that needed pouncing on. So she obliged.


	5. Moving Day

Minerva lay half-asleep in bed, luxuriating in the dim knowledge that it was a holiday and she didn't have to get up yet. The curtains were drawn so that no light could get through, something she always did on days that she didn't have to teach. And then a horrible crashing sound boomed through the house, sending Minerva springing from beneath the covers.

Instinct and a dead run brought her to the kitchen doorway in a matter of seconds, where she was greeted by the sight of James and Terry picking themselves upfrom the middle of an avalanche of pans. The broken latch on the inner edge of the cabinet door told the rest of the story. The only remaining question was which boy had actually managed to break it.

James looked up and spotted her. With a wide beam, he picked up a pan and lid and banged them loudly together. "Look, Gran, make lotta noise!" Judging by the sudden rapt look on Terry's face, he hadn't thought of that idea yet. He carefully selected two lids and gave them an experimental tap, then crashed them together with all the force he could muster.

Minerva could only stand there in dismay. While she would normally have put an end to the fun instantly, this was the first time she had seen either boy unconditionally happy and was reluctant to interfere. However, the din was earsplitting. A sudden thought occurred to her.

"Terry, James, why don't you…James, could you please stop banging that for a second…now come on you two, right over…James, please, you're hurting my ears…come on, both of you over in this corner…Terry, I'm not taking the pans away from you, see, I'm levitating them over…there you go, James, you can beat them together now…Silencio!"

Minerva cast an area silencing spell carefully adjusted so that no one outside of the field could hear the din but the boys would still catch every clang. She offered a glance up at the clock and groaned. It was six in the morning, ridiculously early. Naturally, neither boy looked at all sleepy.

From the night she had adopted them, neither Terry nor James had proved capable of sleeping more than about four hours at a stretch. She hadn't worried at first, blaming their frequent nightmares. But when a month had passed and nothing changed she had decided to call Poppy and make enquiries. The mediwitch had immediately reassured her that everything was fine, and that insomnia was actually a classic symptom of lycanthropy. Which was fine, except that the boys had developed a habit of wandering around the house during the middle of the night.

Toddler-proofing theplace had proved a nearly impossible task, and one that she had given up on once she had realized that they wouldn't be living in the small house for much longer. Toddler-proofing Hogwarts; well, she wasn't looking forward to that task. In any case, now that she was up, she might as well start packing. With the experience of a few decades of moving back and forth, it shouldn't take more than an hour or so.

* * *

By noontime, Minerva was in a state of disbelief. Boxes filled the front hallway and she wasn't anywhere near done yet. Every time she filled a box and put it aside, it seemed as though she found ten more things that needed to go in that particular box. And how James and Terry had managed to accumulate that much stuff, she wasn't sure. Even after putting wizard-space spells on the boxes, they were filled to bursting.

A tapping sound came from the front of the house and the boys came bursting into the living room. "Gran, stwanger, stwanger! He atta a door!"

Minerva dropped the three unmated shoes she was holding and hurried to the front door. As she had half expected, Albus stood on the step with a rather amused expression on his face, Remus just behind him.

"Good morning, my dear Professor. I just thought I'd drop by and see how you three were faring."

Minerva stepped aside to allow them in. "Well enough, I suppose, though things are a little hectic today." A small blur streaked past her and launched itself at Remus' leg, shouting something almost unintelligible. The man laughed and tossed the boy up in the air before settling James against his chest. Somewhat more cautious, Terry peered around Minerva's legs before deciding that the presence of someone he knew outweighed the presence of someone he didn't.

Albus smiled and knelt to greet the lad. Remus glanced around the hallway and blinked. "I'd forgotten just how much junk a child can add to a house." He stared around once more and shook his head. "Like some help packing?"

Minerva felt the knot of tension inside her ease somewhat. "I'd love that. I'm working on the boys' bedroom at the moment. Just…watch your step."

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur. With Remus' and Albus' help, the packing was finished in only a couple more hours. Both James and Terry pitched a fit when the group reached the gates of Hogwarts, but then, as they had only Apparated once before, Minerva had rather expected that.

The start-of-term staff meeting had been made rather livelier than usual by the presence of the boys. Minerva had briefly considered leaving them with one of the house elves, but decided against when she remembered that neither boy had seen an elf before. In any case, bringing them before her colleagues was perhaps the best way to find out if the masquerade they were trying was actually going to work. Poppy andProfessor Flitwick had immediately volunteered to babysit if she ever had need. Hagrid had been rather standoffish at first, then had burst into tears.

Through immense sobs, he managed to get out that he had been thinking of poor little Harry and wouldn't he have liked the chance to get to know these two. Once that was over, he added his own offer to babysit. Minerva politely accepted, but privately thought that there was no way she'd employ him except as a last resort. Snape glared at the twins, but otherwise seemed to consider them beneath his notice. No one, no one, gave any sign of connecting the Boy-Who-Lived with the twins attempting to untie Hagrid's shoelaces.

* * *

By the time Minerva had finally tucked the boys into bed that night, the tight knot inside her had unraveled completely, and she felt rather limp. Perhaps that was the reason for the nightmares she had that night.

_The Dursleys, their death wounds obvious on their bodies, stood in front of her, keeping her from Terry, who was starting to cry. Every time she tried to step around them, they would shift back into her way. Terry was crying steadily now, and wailing for Gran to come and get him. Petunia kept glaring at her, asking angrily if she had planned this from the beginning. If she had placed Harry with them so that she would get be able to get her hooks into Dudley when trouble came. Minerva kept protesting that it wasn't true, that she had tried to protect them, but they wouldn't listen. _

_And then she was standing in a house that was on fire, with James locked in a cupboard that she couldn't open. Every time she yanked at the door, it seemed to become more firmly stuck. She looked up finally to see James and Lily leaning against it casually. Lily just smiled when Minerva asked them to move aside. "Don't you remember? Harry died in the fire. We've come to take him with us. We'll be together again." And then the fire engulfed the stairs._

_She was standing in a dimly lit room. In the darkest of the shadows, something growled. She could barely make out a cage that entrapped it. Yet the bars were slowly breaking down and it would be out in a few minutes. Fear kept her rooted in place, as the creature fought to free itself. A loud cracking sounded and the cage collapsed. From the shadow, the thing growled and started to walk forward. At her feet, she heard a terrified squeaking. Even in the dream, she wondered at the odd noise she was making. Then the thing sprang at her, wolf's teeth bared. _

Minerva sat up, drenched in sweat. Silence reigned, broken only by the soft sounds of James and Terry doing something in their room. There was no sign of the Potters or the Dursleys or of the Grim that had been coming for her. Minerva lay back and tried to focus her mind on the sounds of the boys. Sleep drifted gently back over her.


	6. Black Escape

Minerva awoke to the semi-familiar sensation of two boys sleeping on her feet. Though James and Terry had gotten better about nightmares and the like, they still preferred to slip into her room when something out of the ordinary happened. Moving into a strange place definitely qualified. She smiled and eased her feet out from under them, not the least surprised when they immediately woke up.

The morning seemed to be going well; the sun was out, Peeves was nowhere around, and the twins were behaving for the moment. All the way down to breakfast, Minerva kept pointing out all kinds of interesting things for the boys. They responded with wide-eyed awe, though Terry was a little frightened by the moving, talking paintings. A Picasso particularly worried him. Minerva could sympathize, the painting bothered her a bit, too.

Once in the Great Hall, she settled the boys into the high-chairs she had brought from home and put some general food offerings into their bowls. Only then did she turn to her own breakfast and the Daily Prophet which had just arrived. She couldn't help a smile at the photo of the latest winners of the Galleon Draw; the couple looked frankly stunned. Then she flipped the paper over and glanced at the headline.

Some time later, perhaps centuries, Minerva was aware of Snape calling her name. With difficulty, she managed to tear her gaze from the Prophet to look over. There was a Shielding Charm set up between him and the twins, and Snape was carefully wiping strained carrots out of his hair, completely missing the sausage bit clinging to his shoulder. Outrage was warring with disgust on his face and he seemed to saying something, but she couldn't make it out over the buzzing in her ears.

"Sirius Black has escaped." Was that really her voice? It sounded too calm.

"…completely irresponsible…" his voice trailed off as her words sunk in. "What?"

Poppy leaned over and snatched the paper. Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, no. Not him, not him."

Everybody in the hall was quick to gather around Poppy, desperate to see for themselves in the vain hope that there had been some mistake. Minerva sat back in her chair, hands shaking. She cast a quick look over at James and Terry, who were watching the antics of the adults with a great deal of concern. Her eyes closed as she breathed a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deities were listening.

Black had no reason to suspect that Harry was still alive. Whatever he had broken out to do, it had nothing to do with the boys. Nothing whatsoever. And it wasn't like there was anything she could do about it even if he had. More out of habit than anything else, she turned back to her now cold breakfast.

* * *

Two weeks passed by in a flurry of preparations for the coming school year. And as if the usual problems weren't enough, they had to set up additional security for the off chance that Black decided to drop by. The ministry had wanted to station a pair of dementors in the school, but Albus had put his foot down. As he pointed out several times in a three hour meeting, there was no evidence at all to suggest that Black had any interest in Hogwarts. Therefore, he felt that the risks to the students far outweighed any hypothetical benefits. Albus had then added that he and the staff were taking their own measures in the event of an incident. Fudge finally backed down, but still insisted that an Auror be stationed in Hogsmead for the time being. Albus accepted with good grace. 

The students arrived one rainy evening with spirits as dampened as their clothes. Here and there were pockets of children who seemed normal, but they were quickly acquiring fearful expressions as their more informed classmates told them of the Azkaban escape. A young Hufflepuff-to-be set a minor record that night, Minerva had never before seen a child faint when his name was called to be Sorted.

All through the opening feast, she felt eyes on her and the boys. James and Terry responded to the stares by sitting there nervously and refusing to eat. Eventually, James decided that he'd had enough and tried to climb out of the high-chair, with the result that his bowl crashed to the floor. Minerva decided then and there that the Unbreakable dishes that she'd bought had been a good investment.

Finally, it was over. She couldn't remember ever feeling more thankful. Might as well get some sleep before classes started in the morning.

* * *

The air of tension in the castle gradually eased over the next few months as time passed and Black gave no sign of his whereabouts. There was even an article in the Quibbler that suggested that the Ministry was using the escape as a cover-up for the fact that they had secretly executed the man. The Daily Prophet covered more traditional theories, but even they were slowly replaced by other headlines and other stories. Black became old news, a story that stubbornly refused to keep producing. In most cases, people had other things to do. Like try to teach and keep two rambunctious toddlers in line at the same time…

* * *

The playpen in the Tranfiguration classroom had seemed like a good idea at the time, and it was…usually. In NEWT, OWL, and first year classes, however, it was an unqualified disaster, with the students paying more attention to the boys than to what they were supposed to be doing. And with all of her other babysitters occupied by their own classes, that left only one person. Hagrid. 

"Gwan!" Two small torpedoes launched themselves from the steps of Hagrid's hut to climb Minerva's legs. She laughed and dropped down into a crouch to hug them back, then straightened to face her host.

"How did they behave today? They weren't too much trouble, I hope?"

He waved a hand in breezy disregard. "Oh, no trouble at all. Had ter feed the Thestrals, an' I thought the boys might' like ter meet 'em."

Minerva's heart sunk. "Really."

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah, they loved it. Got ter ride Tenebrus and all." At her horrified expression, he hastened to reassure her. "Don' worry, Professor, never left the ground." A sudden look of puzzlement crossed his face. "Somethin' a bit odd though, neither o' them had any trouble spottin' the herd."

Minerva stood utterly still, feeling as though a block of ice had suddenly grown up inside her. If James and Terry could see thestrals, then that meant…oh Merlin, the Dursleys. She pulled herself together with an effort. "I'm sure I don't know unless...wait! I think I know what must have happened. Caroline mentioned in her last letter that a close friend of the family had died recently, I think of the Australian Flu. I imagine the boys were in the room when he passed on."

Hagrid nodded understandingly. "Right. Got it. Gave me a bit o' a turn, though, when I figured out wha' they were lookin' at. Ah, come on, Fang. There's a good boy."

A thin boarhound puppy had just slipped out from under the porch and crept over to Hagrid, tail wagging hopefully. Minerva stared, having never seen the man with such a normal pet. "Hagrid, I didn't know you had a dog." The twin's eyes lit up and they started to move forward. Hagrid quickly looked up.

"Wait up, yeh two. 'Member wha' I said? Don' come over teh any critter I got 'til I say its all righ'. Don' need your gran gettin' mad at me for lettin' somethin' take a chuck outta yeh. Now yeh can meet 'im, come on." He grinned over at Minerva. "Got 'im off Tony down in Hogsmead. Seems 'is last owner was abusing' 'im, figured I'd see if I could clean 'im up a bit. Fillin' out pretty well."

He gave a sideways glance at her. "Don' worry, Professor. I won' take 'em near anythin' dangerous. Don' want ter lose this pair, too." A downcast look flickered across his face as he watched the boys. It seemed Harry's death was still weighing on his mind.

She put a sympathetic hand on his arm, then glanced at her watch and winced. "Come on, you two. We need to get to lunch." She fought the guilt all the way up to the castle.

* * *

A.N. Before anyone gets on me for Hagrid being OOC, the way I figure it, Hagrid is quite aware that a pair of two-year olds are right about bite-sized for most of the animals that he keeps around. Further, he also realizes that he wasn't Minerva's first choice of babysitters and wants to hold onto the job. Anyway, hope you all enjoy the chapter. More coming soon, the next one's titled 'A New Friend'. See if you can guess who it is. 


	7. A New Friend

* * *

The night of the December full moon was clear and cold, with the moonlight illuminating everything with the clarity of day. Poppy was delighted, having finally managed to convince Minerva to let her observe the boys on one of their transformation nights. Minerva was not at all happy about the idea, but she finally gave in when Poppy brought up for the thousandth time how no one had ever had a chance to observe twin werewolves before, much less a pair under the care of an animagus. Even if the results never got published (Minerva had turned pale at the very thought) it would be valuable to know.

So that night found the three with an observer, who was stretched out on a floating mattress which had been carefully charmed for that purpose. Poppy spent a great deal of time taking down careful notes about behavior and the like. She spent even more time doubled up with laughter at the antics the Minerva and the pups got up to.

Due to the fact that her cat form lacked stamina, Minerva was forced to sit out many of the wild games the boys got up to. That didn't mean she missed all of them by any stretch. It wasn't at all unusual to see a gray tabby-cat chasing a yelping pair of cubs through the battered halls at full speed, or to spot a lightning blur suddenly pounce on a momentarily ignored tail.

That in itself was fascinating, but it was the toys Minerva had bought at a pet store and scattered around the shack that summoned the most excitement. Everything from balls to chew toys was examined and played with, but it was clear from the first that the boys' favorite was a bright yellow rubber squeaky-bone. First James would have custody, then Terry would burrow in to seize the toy and toss it around for a bit. Then James would suddenly dart in and grab it away…and so it went, on and on for nearly the entire night.

By the time the moon finally set and the two women carried the dozing boys inside the castle, Poppy felt as though she'd cracked all her ribs laughing. It felt good; there had been nothing to smile at for a very long time.

* * *

James woke as he usually did, abruptly. Moonlight poured through the window, but it was a pale imitation of the glow that lit the nights when he and Gran and Terry got to go out to the wooden house and turn into animals. He slid off the low bed he slept in and glanced over at Terry who was doing the same thing. Terry's look of eager anticipation was rapidly fading as he looked around the neat little room. James could understand, he didn't feel like playing with any of his toys right then, either. Maybe there'd be something in the outer rooms.

Though he knew that the fireplace behind the screen in the living room was cold and empty, James carefully skirted it anyway. He didn't like fire; not even the orange ones. They made him think of the pale blue one that he'd seen once; and that made him think of the scary men, and of Terry's parents, and of them screaming for such a long time before they'd finally died, and of the thing that had grabbed him by the shoulder and hurt him so badly that he still couldn't use it as well as his left arm. He shivered and whimpered a little.

Terry swung around and looked at him with anxious eyes. "Wat?"

"I tink 'bout fire," James muttered softly, still trying to make the cold feeling that gripped him go away.

Terry's eyes widened. "No! No fire!"

James felt a little better immediately. The two boys' gazes locked and a shared reassurance passed between them. Both of them knew to stay away from the scary things. "No," he agreed, "no fire." Terry's shoulders slumped and he turned away to take a closer look at some of the pictures hung deliberately low on the wall.

James wandered around the room, being careful not to touch anything. Something out of the ordinary caught his eye and he look up. The funny stick that Gran used to make things happen was lying on the edge of one of the bookshelves. It was out of his reach, but maybe…

"Tewwy, wook!" He pointed. Terry's gaze tracked upward and lit on the stick. A grin blossomed on his face, one that James could feel on his own. A chair stood nearby, and James hurried over, followed closely by his brother. It was too heavy for him alone, but with Terry pushing on it as well, it crept across the carpet.

The instant it was under the bookshelf, Terry scrambled onto the chair and carefully grabbed his prize. James waited impatiently below, eager to play with it, but aware that Terry had gotten it first. It was the way of things. Terry waved it in the air, but nothing happened. He frowned and scrambled off the chair, then tried again. Still nothing. Terry frowned in annoyance as James looked around the room. Maybe you were supposed to use it on something.

A magazine caught his eye, and he hurried over and grabbed it. Terry let the wand go with only a slight grumble and he watched to see what his brother would do. James gave the stick an awkward flourish, like he'd seen Gran do sometimes, then bent over and gave the magazine a firm tap, his idea firmly in his mind.

* * *

Minerva woke as she usually did, slowly. The room was warm and comfortable and she could dimly hear the sound of laughter. In fact, it was coming from the living room and quite recognizably belonged to both James and Terry. The fact that they were out of their bedroom was unsurprising, considering the way they had of getting out of lock and keyed rooms, but what on earth was causing all of the mirth? Reluctantly, she climbed out of bed to investigate.

The instant she stumbled out into the living room she could see the writing on the wall. All over the walls, as a matter of fact. Somehow, it seemed James had managed to convince the letters from one of her Transfiguration Monthly's to climb off the printed page and adorn every empty space on the walls and ceiling. And for good measure, he had enlarged them. Torn between annoyance and giggling, she took the wand out of James' limp hand and ordered them into their room. Once the door was safely closed, she gave in to the laughter. There was time enough to tidy up later. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the moment.

* * *

There was still print on the ceiling four hours later when a house-elf came scampering to inform her that she had a visitor.

* * *

"I'm afraid I must apologize for not calling ahead, but in the end I felt that perhaps it would be preferable to speak with you in person." Augusta Longbottom took a careful sip of her tea as she eyed Minerva over the edge of her cup.

Minerva smiled warmly. "Not to worry, it's been far too long since I had a chance to sit and chat with you."

"And I with you. But I must admit that I had a reason for coming by today."

Minerva shrugged noncommittally. In truth, she had known since the moment Augusta had sat down. The woman had never been good at keeping her emotions off her face.

"You see, about the time you adopted your grandchildren, I found myself in a similar situation."

Minerva set her tea down. "My condolences. I heard that Frank and Alice managed to put up quite a fight before they were overcome."

Augusta nodded quietly. "They did, not that that was any consolation. At least they managed to hide Neville away; the Death Eaters never found him. In any case, that's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, I'm past the age when I would normally be taking care of a child, and so are my friends. To be honest, I'm rather worried about Neville, growing up around people so much older than him."

Minerva was starting to see where this was going. "Indeed. I actually have similar concerns about James and Terry. I take it you were hoping that we could arrange for some playdates?"

"If you're agreeable. This coming Friday and the Sunday after that are good days for me."

"Friday would be fine for the first meeting." She smiled. "I look forward to meeting your grandson."

* * *

A shy, round-faced boy peered out from behind his grandmother's legs. "Neville, this is Professor McGonagall. Minerva, this is my grandson, Neville. Neville, remember your manners?"

He crept forward a little and managed a clumsy bow. "Hewwo, Afessor Migonagow."

She smiled reassuringly at him. "Hello, Neville. It's a pleasure to meet you." She turned to call the twins out of their room only to see James standing in the doorway, chin high with childish pride.

"I a woof," he announced, his ringing tones seeming to echo off of the walls. "Owwoooooh!"

Even through her frozen horror Minerva registered that his howl really was pretty impressive, he had obviously been practicing. Terry appeared behind James, giggling with excitement.

"Me too, me too! Owwooooh! Owwooooh!"

Minerva closed her eyes. After all the precautions she had taken, this was it. Why, oh why, hadn't she thought to make sure the boys couldn't bring it up? As if from a distance, she could hear Neville speaking.

"Gwan, can I be woof, too? Pwease?"

"Certainly you may, Neville. Run along, then." Minerva could hear Augusta's chuckle. "What imaginations children can have. I sometimes think that adults could use a little more of it. So, whatever became of that project you were researching with Professor Vector? Did the results ever get published?"

A curious lightheadedness filled Minerva, and she could breath again. Even as she turned to answer her old friend, the thought flickered across her mind that that had been a little too close.


	8. Brooksticks and Confessions

Thanks, all of you. It's great to know someone's (particularly several someone's) are enjoying the story. This chapter has a touch of angst in it; sorry, but it helps explain some of what's been and will be going on. It also helps to explain why Sirius made his great escape.

* * *

Poppy looked up from her inventorying and smiled broadly. "So, Minerva, how did the visit go?"

The older woman groaned in exhaustion as she dropped into a nearby chair; the boys trailing her making a beeline for the alcove where Poppy kept a few toys. "Overall, it went famously. Neville loved having some playmates for a change, and the twins were fascinated by the idea of adding a third party to their mischief. Even Terry was on his best behavior for once; he shared most of his toys without prompting. There was one tiny dispute, but nothing that a frown couldn't solve."

"And to top things off, I'd forgotten just how much I enjoyed chatting with Augusta. The woman has a mind like a Severing Spell, and a rare ability to look beyond the obvious. We spent quite a bit of time discussing the Black escape. She had a few details that didn't get out to the general public. Problem is, none of them add up. Did you know that Black got hold of a newspaper a few months earlier?"

Poppy sat up a little straighter. "No, I didn't. Why is that so important?"

"Because the cover-story was all about Harry Potter's death, that's why. The dementors reported that Black wouldn't stop screaming for hours afterwards. And even when he did, it was obviously preying on his mind. He started talking in his sleep soon after, with poor Pettigrew's name coming up pretty frequently. And then, of course, one night he just vanished."

The mediwitch frowned. "Why on earth was he so upset about Harry's murder? Because someone else did it?"

Minerva shrugged uneasily. "There's no knowing. But for whatever reason, the dementors point to that as the moment Black began his descent into madness."

Poppy slowly shook her head. "I'm just glad Harry's beyond his reach."

Minerva couldn't help a frown. "I hope so."

"You don't sound very certain."

Minerva hesitated and glanced over at the twins. "Could we speak privately for a moment, please?"

It only took a few seconds to cast the necessary spells, then Poppy turned to face Minerva. "What's wrong? The boys didn't revert to using their original names during the playdate, did they?"

"No, but almost as bad. James announced at the top of his lungs that he was a wolf, and Terry went and backed him. Thankfully, Augusta assumed that they were playacting and dismissed it. We might not get that lucky next time."

Poppy wore a look of horror. "I agree; but you're not thinking of forbidding any more playdates, are you?"

"Oh good heavens, no! But I did want to ask your advice on putting them under a Compulsion."

Poppy frowned. "I don't know. If you do it carefully it should be pretty safe, but is it worth the effort? I mean, most children get to where they can throw one off at about five."

Minerva nodded eagerly. "That's part of the reason I want to use that particular spell. It's a first cousin of the Imperius, and a little extra practice at protecting the mind couldn't hurt. Besides, once they get that old, they'll be able to understand why they can't talk about their problem in public. Believe me, I've thought it over pretty carefully; I just wanted to make sure that there weren't going to be any side effects because they were so young."

"I don't _think_ so. If you'll hold on a minute, I'll check and make sure. Good idea about the Imperius connection, that hadn't occurred to me. Okay, here we are. Mmm…no, shouldn't be any problems with the spell as long as you don't try messing with their memories as well."

"Good. Do you want to do the honors?"

"Sure. You know, while I'm at it, I might as well give them a checkup. James, Terry, could you come over here for a minute, please?"

* * *

The compulsion worked as promised, and while the boys initially showed a great deal of frustration, they finally seemed to accept that there was nothing they could do. Neville continued to visit, and in time, the favor was returned by the twins. The first time they were in the Longbottom house, Minerva thought they'd never stop gaping at their surroundings; something that Augusta seemed to find it amusing. But their birthday, which was now the first of June, was spent entirely at Hogwarts.

* * *

"Ah, Minerva, I see the boys opened my present," Madam Hooch smiled up at her colleague.

"Really, Rolanda, they're only three! I mean, their own brooms? The two of them will break their necks!"

"Relax, they're only Nimbus Tailwinds. They've got a top speed of five miles an hour until an adult takes the restrictions off, and then they go up to fifteen. What's more, they've got built-in Braking and anti-Collision Charms as well as several other spells designed to keep the rider from falling off. Trust me, I looked over fifteen different models before I settled on this one."

"Besides, the boys are already eyeing the big kids on their brooms; just how long do you think it'll be before they try to ride a _real_ broom? This way they'll have had some flying experience when they decide to make the grand experiment. Now, I've got some free time early tomorrow morning, how about then?"

* * *

Rolanda shook her head in disbelief. "I should have given them Comets. I've never seen kids fly that well without taking a few spills along the way. They're going to be something else when they finally get onto a Quidditch team."

"Oh, come on, Rolanda. The first flight does not a Quidditch career make." Despite her words, Minerva was unable to keep the visions from dancing in her head. The two boys were on the shoulders of a crowd clad in red and gold, both of them raising the Quidditch Cup high into the air. James would play Chaser, of course, and Terry would play…what position would he play? Could he play? He'd never be Sorted unless he was magic, and he had shown little enough of that, to date… She told herself to worry about that bridge when they came to it.

"What do you think of Terry for a Keeper?"

Rolanda narrowed her eyes as she watched the boys. "Bit early to tell yet. He might. He certainly won't be a Seeker, he's going to end up too big. Beater, maybe, the two of them fly together well. They'd make a pretty good Beater team, I think."

Minerva couldn't keep the surprise off her face. "Beater team? I'd thought of James as a Chaser."

"NO!" Rolanda hastily lowered her voice when James and Terry both looked over at her. "I don't want that boy anywhere near a Quaffle. He's too much like his father to take that chance."

It took an effort, but Minerva managed a light laugh. "Rolanda, his father was a Muggle. As far as I know, the closest Ralph ever came to a broomstick was when he had to houseclean."

Rolanda didn't say anything for a long moment, she just looked at Minerva with an unreadable expression. When she spoke, it was oddly gentle. "I guess that answers why you didn't ask me if I wanted to help." She turned and watched the boys trying to get their brooms to dive, then swung back to their adopted grandmother.

"Minerva, I happen to know that Ralph and Caroline have been dead for three years. I suppose you don't remember, but I was there the day you took Caroline's picture off of your desk. I remember because it was the Christmas holidays and everything was supposed to be happy and bright, and you were trying so hard, but in that office, the pain showed through, just for a moment. And you told me then. A car crash, if I recall rightly."

Minerva's voice wouldn't rise above a whisper. "Yes. Yes, that was it."

"The moment Dumbledore told all of us that you had taken in your daughter's children, I _knew_ what had become of Harry Potter. Because I have yet to hear of someone dying twice and the only reason for all the secrecy was if the child was someone who must not be found. My guess is that James is Harry, and that you named him after his real father. Am I right?"

Rolanda's answer was a defeated sigh. "Is the whole of Hogwarts discussing him, then?"

Rolanda looked insulted. "Hardly! I don't recall you telling anyone else about Caroline. I just happened to be there at the right time. To be honest, I was a little puzzled about that. If you don't mind me prying, of course."

Minerva gave a bitter laugh. "Caroline and I were estranged. I didn't approve of her choice of a husband, and she never forgave me for some of the comments I made at the time. Before you say anything, it had _nothing_ to do with the fact that Ralph was a Muggle. The man was a drunk, though I think Caroline finally managed to conquer that, and a petty thief. Frankly, I thought she was throwing herself away on him and made the mistake of telling her so." Minerva turned and watched the boys. An emptiness filled her, along with an ache that had never really gone away.

"There was an argument, and that was the last time we spoke. I thought she'd come to her senses in a year or two, but she didn't. Her own stubbornness held out, or maybe she felt she couldn't break up with him because it would mean admitting to me that she'd been wrong. I finally wrote her a couple of letters, but she never answered. I even tried to Firecall her once, but when I contacted the Australian authorities, they said that she had instructed them not to give out her address. Maybe I should have been more persistent, but I wasn't. And then she died, and I never got a chance to mend things between us."

Rolanda was staring at her in shock. "I'm sorry," she finally managed. There was a look in her yellow eyes that said more than she ever could out loud. Minerva shook her head in an attempt to dispel the heavy weight of the memories and the guilt.

"It's not your fault. In any case, there's nothing I can do now, so I might as well just try to get over it."

The look on Rolanda's face spoke volumes, but she merely sighed. "If you say so. We all make mistakes, and sometimes they can have very far-reaching consequences. Sometimes, the best thing to do is try and forgive yourself." She gave Minerva a piercing look, but went on before the older woman could speak.

"In any case, you seem to have two rather talented flyers here. Want to take the restrictions off the brooms and see how they do?"

Minerva eagerly seized the chance to change a very painful subject. "Mmm, I don't think so; not yet anyway. It is only their first time on a broomstick. Let's see how they're doing in a month, I might well change my mind."

Rolanda nodded. "All right. But in a month they're going to be doing Starfishes and Wronski Feints."

Minerva snorted in laughter. "All the more reason to keep the restriction spells on the brooms a little longer." Yet Rolanda did have a point, Minerva couldn't recall ever seeing a pair of children take so quickly to flying. Even as she watched, James yanked his broom out of a collision course with Terry's, then shouted a challenge to a race. They were certainly quick to notice what was going on around…wait a minute.

Werewolves were known for their reflexes, even in human form. James and Terry seemed a little on the extreme end, but considering how young they were…maybe. Quite possibly, in fact. Remus was always eager to hear news of the boys, so getting hold of him was never a problem. And if anyone knew, it'd be him. She'd have to talk to Poppy, too…

"Knut for your thoughts?" Drawn out of her reverie, Minerva shot Rolanda a startled look.

"What? Oh, sorry. Just thinking about the boys. So, do you think Christmas will be too early to switch them to a better broom? I hear that Twigs and Rods manufactures a good family broomstick; called the Silver Lance, I think?"

Rolanda shook her head. "You're thinking of the Silver Arrow, and yes, it is a good broom. As for Christmas, maybe; the boys are pretty good, but you're going to want to put a few extra safety charms on their brooms if you're planning on upgrading that soon."

And the rest of the morning was spent in a brisk discussion about the finer points of broom-safety, while the two boys darted here and there above the lawn.


	9. Diagon Alley

Shooing her young charges before her, Minerva stormed into her rooms and slammed the door, then yanked it open and slammed it again for good measure. That old _BAT_! Bad enough she had to frighten her students with spooky 'predictions' of misery and death, but did she _have_ to do it to a pair of children who weren't anywhere _near_ old enough to figure out that it was all sheerest _RUBBISH_?

James and Terry huddled together against one of the walls, looking as though they were near tears. Minerva hastily cut off her mental tirade and dropped to her knees so that she could pull them into the hardest hug she could manage. "It's okay, Terry, you can cry if you want to, I don't mind. James, are you…oof! Yes, I love you too, you just go ahead and squeeze me as hard you want. Don't worry, either of you; nothing's going to happen, I won't let it." 'And I'm not going to let that _woman_ near you, either,' she added mentally.

James turned a tearstained face up to hers and quaveringly started to say something about Professor Trelawney, which Minerva immediately cut off. "You two know that I love you very much and that I would do anything to protect you, right?" Both boys nodded slightly, their frightened gazes never leaving hers. "Then you don't need to worry, because I'm not going to let anything bad near you ever again. All right?"

There was a double slump as the twins suddenly relaxed, though neither of them let go of her. "Love you, Gran," Terry muttered as well as he could while wiping his face against her robes. James didn't say anything out loud, but the sudden hug he gave her spoke volumes.

Minerva mentally sighed in relief. Caroline had always been a fearful child, never totally comforted by her mother's reassurances, but the boys invariably took her words at face value. Part of the reason was probably the wolf pack-mentality showing through. In any case…

"James, Terry, feel like heading outside and doing some flying?" The twins brightened immediately, and dashed off to their room to grab their brooms. Minerva followed to make sure they changed their robes to something a little sturdier. Within a few minutes, the incident with Professor Trelawney had been set aside, if not entirely forgotten.

* * *

Moving day seemed to come around earlier every year. And every year, it meant uprooting most of the people in the castle for a month and a half. Minerva was seriously starting to consider buying a house in Hogsmead; at least then there wouldn't be so far to go. And, come to think on it, she'd be able to drop by occasionally during the school year to keep it up. 

The three of them had been forced to stay at Hogwarts a good week after they'd meant to leave, due to a leaking roof caused by a fallen tree in the backyard. The bedrooms hadn't been touched, thankfully, but the living and dining rooms were a mess. A host of animals had taken advantage of the hole in the silent house to make their dens. A troop of squirrels had been in the attic, and three hedgehogs and a knarl had been found living under the sink. And, naturally, several rats had also taken up residence. Repairing the roof and transfiguring the tree into something a little more transportable had only taken a few days. Convincing her new animal guests that they might want to move out had taken the largest amount of time.

The task had finally been accomplished, however, and the small family had taken on the mighty chore of hauling all of the boxes and crates from Hogwarts to the house. All three of them had collapsed into their beds that night.

The next morning, however, Minerva had risen with a determined look on her face. "James, Terry, go change into your company robes. We need to go shopping." The instant the boys returned for inspection, she added another stop to the list.

* * *

"Hello, Minerva. Oh my goodness, are these the boys? They've certainly shot up, haven't they?" 

Minerva laughed ruefully."Yes, they most certainly have. Though I admit I hadn't realized how much until I spotted Terry's ankles showing under his robes."

Madam Malkin nodded sagely as she examined their old clothes. "I see you've enlarged them a bit. Good thinking with kids this young, they go through clothes too fast in any case. I imagine you've had to use a few repairing spells as well?"

"A few, the worst was on this one, after Hagrid's puppy caught James by the sleeve. Not that he was trying to be vicious, mind, it was just that they were playing tag."

The squat witch chuckled merrily. "Oh, yes. There's just something about boys and dogs. Mostly that they both have a knack for getting into mischief." Finished looking over the used robes and sorting them into three stacks, she stood briskly. "All right, I can take this pile with no troubles. This stack is a bit worn, but it's still quite serviceable and you'd be surprised just how many families don't mind used clothing if the price is right. These four I can't take, they'd be more trouble than they're worth to sell. You might try the secondhand shop down the way for them. Say an even two Sickles a pound for the first pile and one Sickle fifteen Knuts for the second?"

Minerva nodded. "That's actually more than I expected you to offer. I accept."

Madam Malkin wore a suddenly mischievous expression. "Really. Well, in that case I'm going to have to start lowering my estimates. All right, you two, hop onto the stools so I can fit you up."

The bell at the door tinkled cheerfully and they all glanced around at the family that walked in.

"Oh, hello, Michael. Minerva, this is Dr. Brown and his wife, Angela; he's in charge of Muggle/Wizard relations at the ministry. Michael, this is Professor McGonagall, the Assistant Headmaster at Hogwarts. And all these little ones are Terry and James over here, and Lavender and Morgana."

Even as she greeted the young parents, Minerva gave them a quick once-over. Dr. Brown looked harmless enough, ifsomewhat full of himself, and his wife rather gave Minerva the impression of nothing at all. She was pretty enough, though Minerva rather suspected that the only reason he'd married her was so that he'd have an ornament to grace the image of a perfect household. On the other hand, their two daughters looked as though they might have some promise. Both of them bright-eyed and obviously intelligent; Morgana looked to be four, while Lavender seemed about the twin's age. Minerva paused suddenly. Come to think on it, where were the boys?

Minerva looked around and spotted James poking at a somewhat wobbly mannequin near the back of the store, with Terry standing a little to one side with his head cocked, apparently trying to figure out what the thing was. "James, stop messing with that. James! Are you even…TERRY!"

For one heart-stopping second, she had been sure that the falling mannequin was going to land on Terry. Instead, it hit just to one side, making an almighty crash, but not doing any damage. James stood frozen where he was, eyes wide with shock. Madam Malkin hurried forward.

"Oh, my goodness! Is he all right? Young man?"

Minerva forced herself to let go of Terry before he suffocated. "Yes, he's fine. I think I need to have a word with James, though."

The boy huddled in on himself. "I sorry. Was just seeing how far it would go."

Minerva forced herself to reign in her anger. He hadn't meant to make it fall over, after all, and he was quite obviously upset that he'd nearly hurt his brother. The twins being who they were, it was enough. "I understand. However, the next time…don't. All right?"

He nodded quickly. Minerva sighed inwardly. And now he'd be depressed for the next few hours until she and Terry finally coaxed him out of it. Children. She leveled a glare at Angela Brown who was studying the boys with an expression that usually meant that a piece of unsolicited advice from the Daily Prophet was about to be offered.

"Okay. Let's get these two outfitted and then I need to drop by the bookstore for a minute."

* * *

"The Nazgul chased after Frodo, but they couldn't quite catch him. For the elven horse ran with the speed of a thestral, and no one could keep up unless the horse wished it so. And so it went, all the way to the river marking the edge of the elves' lands. And even as the white horse climbed the banks on the far side of the river, Frodo looked back and saw…" 

Minerva's voice trailed off as she saw that the boys had fallen asleep. A soft smile lit her face and she sat back a moment to just watch them. A lock of James' unruly hair was in his face and she gently brushed it out. They looked so peaceful, the wild energy that filled them during the day lost to the realms of dreams. She leaned over and gave them one more good-night kiss, then stood and walked over to the bookshelf.

The 'quick' trip to Flourish and Blotts had stretched into an hour and a half when she discovered the children's reading section. Several picture and easy reading books had been picked out with an eye towards beginning the boys' education. As she had turned to leave, a bookcase with older children's books had caught her attention.

Cramming the shelves had been numerous simplified versions of many of the classics she had in her own collection, and she had snapped them up with glee. These became bedtime stories, with the boys welcome to ask questions if they didn't understand something about what was going on. Some of them were long enough that they'd take a good many nights to finish, but none of the three really minded.

Best of all, the books had brilliantly drawn and colored illustrations, which Minerva carefully enchanted so that they hovered over the books as she read. Tonight it had been the Nazgul pursuing Frodo to the ford, but another night it might be Conan Thunderhammer as he singlehandedly drove the frost giants from his home village, and yet another night Circe would stand under the moonlight as she prepared to transform the raiding sailors into pigs.

Minerva stepped out onto the back step for a moment to feel thebreeze on her face. For a change, the wind was coming from the forest instead of the nearby town. She took a deep breath and could almost taste the scent of earth and leaves. A sense of well-being went through her and she felt a sudden compulsion to go for a quick walk in the forest. She hesitated for a moment, then laughed and walked back inside. She really did need to get to bed, however lovely the night.


	10. Lure

* * *

The morning dawned bright and clear, and Minerva banished the boys to the backyard almost immediately after breakfast so she would have some quiet time to catch up on the local newspapers. In truth, they were no trouble to get out the door, they'd seen the sunshine and were eager to re-explore their old haunts. She shut the door behind them with an indulgent chuckle and sat down on the sofa, ignoring the call of the fresh air, which was still coming off the forest.

The headline was of the wedding of some prominent town figure; likely someone who had influence at the Herald, judging by the fact that the entire front page was devoted to the story. Thankfully, page two had some _real_ news.

The most interesting was an update on a runaway girl who had gone missing four days before. The reporter took great relish in pointing out that there had been a rash of such disappearances in the last year or so, and was proposing some wild theory featuring drug rings. Minerva shook her head. At least these people had never had to worry about _real_ troubles. She found herself rather envying them. She turned to a report on a robbery.

* * *

Terry crouched over a hole he was digging and tried to think what to do next. The air seemed rather thicker than usual and he felt like his head was clogged up. Nearby, James was staring into space next to the toy dog he had brought outside. Terry shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

The forest outside the fence was the only thing that seemed really clear at the moment. Except that it wasn't. Maybe it was the fog in his head, but he thought he could almost see a rippling in the air. It rather reminded him of something, and it brought up good feelings the longer he stared at it. Sorta like Gran did, except that it felt older, somehow, like something he'd almost forgotten.

Something like…Mum. But not the Mum he remembered, who hadnursed a bitter anger deep in her eyes. This felt…

_A face hung over him, filled with love and pride, though he hadn't learned to recognize the expressions yet. Everything behind her was brilliant white and smelled funny, all harsh. He didn't feel afraid, though, because she'd pulled him to her and he could hear the heartbeat that had kept him company up until an hour ago. "Hello, Dudley. I've been waiting for you." She smiled again. "My little son."_

Terry wasn't sure how he'd gotten out of the yard, but he was standing right at the edge of the trees. James walked past him silently, his face still. Terry looked ahead to the shimmering he'd seen before and broke into a smile. Mum stood amid the trees before him, holding her arms out. The longer he walked towards her, the more dizzy he felt. No matter how far he went, still she was ahead of him. Sometimes he'd break into a stumbling run, and sometimes James would pound past him for a moment, but they were always nearby each other. Terry wasn't really sure why James was staying with him. Maybe he saw his mum, too.

And then she stopped moving away from him and stood motionless in a largish clearing. The ground here was really uneven, and he kept tripping over stuff because he didn't want to take his eyes off of Mum long enough to look down. He didn't have that much farther to go to reach her, but he felt tired, so tired. His leg gave out under him and he slumped to the ground. James walked past him a couple steps, then suddenly fell. Terry gave his brother no further mind, for Mum was walking over.

She knelt and put her arms around him. He felt a stinging sensation where she touched him, but suddenly found he didn't care. She was holding him ever tighter and some other people were as well, because she didn't have that many arms. A numbness washed though him, and Terry drifted off to sleep with a smile of happiness on his face.

* * *

Minerva stared blankly at page eight for a long time before admitting to herself that she wasn't taking in a word of it. She snapped the paper rather violently in an attempt to refold it, then angrily hurled it to the floor. The longer she sat, the more a restless energy flared up inside. Something was very wrong.

She'd never been much of a pacer, but her feet carried her back and forth as she tried to work out what her unconscious was telling her. And the utter silence wasn't helping. She froze suddenly. The silence…it shouldn't be that quiet, not with the boys in the yard. Something tensed inside her as she walked to the window.

A look revealed nothing, but she forced herself not to panic. There were any number of places in the back yard that couldn't be seen from the window. Minerva kept her steps slow as she walked to the door, feeling as though she'd fallen asleep on the couch and was moving through a nightmare. Her hand closed on the doorknob. 'Gently now,' she admonished herself; the boys didn't need to know that their gran was cracking up. The knob turned and the door whispered open.

As if from a distance, she heard the creaking of the wooden porch as she took three carefully measured steps forward. Only then did she look out at the yard. Her knees buckled. The yard was empty and the gate was open. That would have been Terry, he'd always had a way with locks.

The ice that had grown up inside her suddenly flashed to fear, and she ran forward, calling their names. The only thing that answered was the echoes from the woods. Minerva spun, looking up and down the road; then forced herself to focus. They couldn't have been gone that long, which meant that there would still be scent traces. She switched to her cat form.

The boys' scent lingered in the air, mixed with the rich smell of the woods that somehow reminded her of mother and love and happiness all rolled into one. She took a step forward…and then froze. The transfiguration back into her human self was faster than she'd ever done it before.

There was something in the air that ensnared the mind. It was either too weak or too far away for her to detect it as a woman, but her cat nose had caught it well enough. And with the keen sense of smell the boys had, the scent would have trapped them easily enough.

The first thing she did was put on a Bubble-Head charm, then she retrieved the stuffed dog James had snuck outside. Years before, Mad-Eye had shown her a tricky little charm that he sometimes used to see where a suspect had gone. For a moment she thought it hadn't worked, then a line of pale gold footprints began to appear. It came as no surprise that they led off into the forest. Minerva jogged along beside them.

For a good mile she followed the increasingly unsteady tracks. As she moved farther and farther into the forest, she became unnervingly aware of a nightmarish silence. Not a bird sang and not a squirrel scampered among the branches. It was only with an effort that she convinced herself that she wasn't being watched.

The forest was growing lighter up ahead, yet she could feel a darkness that seemed to penetrate her soul. A few more steps brought her to a scene born of nightmare.

The land sloped to a pit nearly in the exact center of the clearing. Vines, some big around as Hagrid's arm, covered the ground. A human skeleton lay nearby, spike-laden tendrils drilling deeply into the bone. It looked as though the bones were nearly eaten through. The bodies of animals were scattered around, some alive and breathing as the plant wrapped its limbs around their bodies and dug needle-sharprunners into their flesh. Others appeared mercifully dead, their bodies shriveling as they were slowly consumed. Already a couple of the vines were feeling about for her. She took a quick step back and cast on a Aversion Charm.

It took a moment to recognize the low moan for what it was. A teenage girl lay on the ground some fifteen feet away, oblivious to the vines that were wrapped around her. Minerva remembered the article in the paper and shuddered. The girl looked dehydrated, desiccated. And just beyond the girl was James.

Minerva's breath caught in her throat as she suddenly recognized the bodies of her two charges. Both looked to be asleep, their dreams slowly turning from pleasant to nightmare. Neither looked badly hurt yet, but there was no way Minerva could see to get them free without risking killing them, particularly if the plant decided to retaliate.

Never had she heard of a plant like this, and she had no idea of how to deal with something that large. If the twins and that other girl had any chance for survival, it would be at the hands of a plant expert. Despite that knowledge, it took every bit of will power she had to turn and walk away. In only a few yards her steps had turned to an all-out run.Minerva could only pray that the woman was somewhere that she could be reached.


	11. The Clan

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, I had to totally rewrite it after I was in editor mode a few nights ago and realized that there were several plot holes that couldn't be resolved the way I'd originally written it. Going to bed that night, I happened to read a recently acquired copy of Rowling's 'Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them', and several years worth of sub-plot starting meshing together. I hope you like it.

* * *

Minerva fought the urge to throw the bowl of Floo Powder across the room. Precious time was fleeing from her, and she'd never felt more helpless.

When she had tried to get hold of Professor Sprout, the only person she'd reached had been a painting propped in front of the fire. A minute's conversation had revealed that Sprout had gone on vacation…without leaving a firecall address. Somehow or other, Minerva hadn't updated Albus's information from the last time he'd moved, and there'd been no answer when she'd called Poppy.

The receptionist at the Ministry had taken down her information and promised to give it to the appropriate department, but the bored expression on his face said plainly that he didn't think it much of an emergency. Minerva wasn't placing any bets on when or whether any hypothetical ministry department was going to call back. There was still the Potion and Plant Poisoning department at St. Mungo's, but she wasn't sure they'd be any more help than the Ministry.

Tears of frustration threatened to well up, but instead she whirled and started pacing, trying desperately to think of someone, anyone, who could help. Snape, she didn't trust. Remus, well, she still remembered the boy who had managed to get himself and Pettigrew sent to the hospital wing while repotting Bouncing Bulbs. Black had been the one good at Herbology, not that that did any good now.

As she often did to calm herself, Minerva glanced at Angus's picture on the mantelpiece. And froze as her eyes lit on the snapshot next to it. Her husband as a teenager waved excitedly from across the years. And next to him, with a black eye from a poorly dodged Bludger, was his older brother. A then young man with a Hagrid-like interest in exotic and dangerous plants. Camden MacFusty. Minerva grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.

* * *

A group of some thirty witches and wizards crowded into Minerva's back yard. Camden was the obvious leader, but Minerva found herself holding a similar position due to her status as the grandmother of the ensnared twins. Despite the situation, the atmosphere was far from strained, and the occasional quiet laugh was heard here and there. Then again, considering the members of Clan Macfusty had grown up with one another, that was hardly surprising. Minerva found herself somewhat comforted by the presence of those who had been family many years before.

Cauldrons of boiling water had been levitated overhead and Akira, the Clan's healer, was going through her pack yet again. Of all of them, she looked the most worried. Camden was talking with a couple of cousins who worked at the Ministry. Finishing, he turned and walked over to his former sister-in-law.

"We've decided to declare Douglas the Ministry Witness." At her puzzled look, he elaborated. "The Himalayan Kraken is such a dangerous plant that the only place it's allowed to grow is in its native mountain range. A seedling found elsewhere must by law be destroyed and a representative from the Ministry Herbology Department be present to ensure that someone doesn't add it to their collection."

A sympathetic expression crossed his face as he gazed at her. "Are you sure you want to come along? It's not going to be pretty, and the boys aren't going to wake up for some time, anyway. And depending on how far that girl's gone, Akira might well have to do a mercy killing."

"WHAT! That's illegal, not to mention immoral! I thought we were taking her to St. Mungo's."

The raven-haired Healer walked over and lightly swatted her father on the shoulder. "Great going, Da." She turned to the furious Minerva and sighed. "I'm aware of that. This thing, however…well, after a while, the venom the kraken injects into its prey causes permanent damage. Yes, St. Mungo's could keep her alive for a while even past the point of no return. But her existence would consist of little more than an awareness of pain and fear. Because she's a Muggle, no one she knows could visit. Look, it all depends on just how long that thing's had her, and how strong she is. Four days is pushing it a bit, but I might be able to save her. If not, then I prefer to offer a clean end."

Her green eyes met Minerva's squarely, and the older woman was the first to look away. Images of Neville's parents flickered through her mind and she could suddenly understand the woman's viewpoint, even if she didn't agree with it. She nodded reluctantly, having a hard time finding the right words.

There was a moment of awkward silence, then Camden said cheerfully, "Well, if we're going to do this, it might as well be now. Bubble-head Charms, everyone."

* * *

No one spoke as they gazed at the monster beneath their broomsticks. Akira was flying rather lower than the others, giving the captives a close an examination as she safely could, and ignoring the long tentacles that uncertainly felt around for the meal they sensed nearby. At long last, she flew up to the others.

"Minerva, your boys are fine. They're going to have some scars from where the rootlets burrowed into the skin, but it doesn't look like there's going to be any permanent damage." Minerva was unable to suppress a shudder as she looked down at the twins. Akira's jaw was set, the anger and revulsion she felt showing in the rigid line of her body. "The Muggle girl…I just don't know. She's hurt, but I think she might live, after all. We're going to have to get all three of them at the same time." She paused, then burst out, "Gods, it's huge!"

Camden nodded grimly and raised his voice so that everyone could easily hear. "All right, listen up! You ten are in charge of the cauldrons. Hit us by accident and your widows are going to be looking for your remains in a dragon's lair." Chuckles rose, but quickly faded. A quartet of brothers seemed to find the statement particularly funny, judging by the muttered asides that were going back and forth. Camden's eyes narrowed. "You four, you lot, and you idiots are our rescue teams. Minerva, if you're sure you can do it, keep a Shielding Spell on your boys so the kraken doesn't just grab them again. Kyla will be your counterpart with the girl. The rest of you, except for Akira, will be in charge of Shielding the rescue teams. Got it?"

A warcry fill the air. To Minerva's right and a little above, Akira conjured three stretchers and gave one to each team. Camden's voice ripped through the air. "Go to it!"

The steaming cauldrons dropped until they were hovering just over the motionless forms on the ground. Minerva gritted her teeth and cast two quick shields around the boys. The vines surrounding them shifted uneasily as the plant became aware of something going wrong. Then, as twelve blurs shot down to the children they were trying to free, the cauldrons tilted as one and poured their contents over the vines.

Huge branches whipped through the air and an unpleasant keening pierced the ears right at the high edge of hearing. Minerva found herself wishing that she hadn't insisted on taking both boys herself. She gritted her teeth and focused on keeping the shields up. Those on the ground were fighting to work as wickedly spiked vines slammed into their shields and knocked them around. Yet the interference didn't prevent them from casting Severing Spell after Severing Spell.

A massive vine hurtled into a wizard in the middle of Severing one of the branches tethering James and knocked his wand to one side. A cut shot across the boy's chest, and Minerva heard somebody cry out. It took a second before she realized the voice had been her own. And then James was free and the foursome was carrying him up to Akira, who immediately bent over him and started swearing under her breath. Then it was Terry who was being born out of danger and Minerva released the shield she had somehow kept up, even as the final four rescuers lifted the limp body of the girl.

There was a collective sigh of relief as they flew out of reach of the kraken, followed by a triumphant yell. Camden was shouting over the noise. "Hey, Leith, Minna! You see any small-and-furry's down there you think you can heal?"

Two siblings in their teens offered a synchronized snort, followed by the girl's quick answer. "You're kidding, right? I can see at least twenty from here, and there's probably several more we can pull through." Even as she spoke, both brother and sister were conjuring cages to put their new charges in.

Camden didn't bother to hide the wide grin on his face. "All right, then! What're you waiting for? Jamie, Donald, want to give 'em a hand? Get everything you can out, Avada everything that's too far gone to save, then let us know so I can torch the kraken. Hurry up; I'd bet a dragon egg that the damned thing's seeding. The last thing we need is its like all over the Isles."

Minerva tuned out the activity that followed in favor of hovering next to the twins. Already, some of the pallor in their faces was fading and the pink hue returning. Mottled greenish-brown tendrils still stuck out their skin in many places; but they were alive, they were alive. Her throat tried to close up, but she resisted. She was not going to make a spectacle of herself in public.

Akira turned momentarily from the muggle girl. "Minerva," she said softly. "She's going to make it. They're all going to be fine." Tears of relief were rolling down the woman's face. An orange glow lit her face from beneath as Camden touched off the first flame. The forest blurred for a moment then suddenly cleared.

Akira gently took her hand from where she'd wiped the moisture running down Minerva's cheeks and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She then returned to her patients. Minerva leaned over and gave each of the boys a kiss, then gave in to the tears that washed away the horrible knot of emotions that had been tightening the whole day.


	12. Family and Friends

The gray light of pre-dawn gleamed softly off the heirlooms kept in Dragon Hall. Minerva slipped quietly through the silence, pausing now and then to more closely examine some trophy she'd forgotten or simply not remembered in its full glory. Anything to distract her mind from the torrent of nightmares and what-ifs that threatened to overwhelm her now that the boys were out of danger.

The black eggshells of Faing, the captive dragon Brian MacFusty had used so successfully to defend his family against the Norse raiders, sat on a marble pedestal at the entranceway to the hall. Hanging above the shells was a segment of the goblin-forged chain that had held the dragon prisoner and next to that, a painting of Brian and Faing in full battle armor. Minerva watched for a moment as four Norse wizards tried to circle around the dragon's flank and were beaten back by a hail of arrows and curses.

In another alcove was Andra's scroll from the night she had first theorized about the use of dragon's blood in Healing Potions. While she had found only three uses for the blood, no one else had fared any better until Albus had furthered her research some six hundred years later. Dragons were just too dangerous to take on lightly. Andra herself had had several close calls trying to invent a Stunning Spell strong enough to get through a dragon's notoriously tough hide.

Assorted swords, axes, and wands were carefully hung about the walls, interspersed with the heavy standards captured in battles from a more violent age. No dust collected on any of these mementos, nor did the weight of time turn cloth into dust or metal into rust. Clan MacFusty remembered its history, and every child born into the families could recite dragon lineages and brave deeds from his first words. Human lineages, too, when you came down to it. Minerva stopped in front of the huge tapestry that sprawled in the place of honor over the back wall. In order to read it, one had to first pass by everything that reminded them of who they were.

Minerva's hand lightly traced over the heavy fabric, her lips shaping the words 'Dragon's Heart' that were emblazoned in gold at the top of the tapestry. Centuries ago, Brian had chosen this for his family's watchword. There was a Hebridian Black embroidered in each corner of the tapestry and they turned to watch her as she ran her hand downwards through the years, seeking one name in particular. And finally, down by the bottom, there it was.

Gold stitching traced the name of Angus MacFusty and the dates of his birth and death. She swallowed, her grief still hiding deep inside, even after thirty-six years. A dotted line ran from his name to hers and she managed a smile as she saw her parents' names emblazoned above hers. Clan MacFusty was many things, but above all else they prized family. There were pureblooded wizards on there, but there were also halfbloods, squibs and muggle-borns. The nearby muggle villages had had a long association with their wizard neighbors and neither side saw anything wrong with the arrangement. The Hebrides had been driving ministry officials to drink ever since the creation of the wizarding secrecy code.

Minerva chuckled and followed the solid gold line that ran downwards from Angus' and her name to Caroline, who, in her turn, had a dotted line running to Ralph Evans and his parents. A moment passed before she noticed something was wrong.

The Evans' date of death was off by two years. And a gold line ran down from their names to two names placed side by side. James and Terry Evans, born June 1, 1980.

Minerva felt faint, the walls around her seeming to spin. Had it all been a particularly bad dream? The Potters, the Dursleys? The orphaned boys? No! She could remember it too well, it had to have happened. But the evidence was right in front of her.

Camden's voice cut through the dizziness, providing her with an anchor in a world suddenly gone wrong. "I changed it this morning."

She stared up at him, unable to make sense of the words. "You…what?"

He offered a faint smile. "We knew who those boys weren't from the beginning, of course, but we couldn't figure out why you were claiming them as Caroline's. And then Akira found James' and Terry's scars and things fell into place." He winced as he eased himself down onto the stone floor.

Minerva nodded slowly. It hadn't even occurred to her that the Healer would have a hard time not noticing the boys' problem. And of course her brother-in-law would know very well when and how his niece had died. She felt sick. Albus couldn't have chosen a worse guardian for the boys. Twice, no, three times now, someone had come across their secret. Pure luck had saved them up till now, but how much longer would that hold?

Camden went on. "I have to commend you, not many people would take in a pair of werewolf children, much less shield them from those arrogant…" Anger flickered across his face and his jaw snapped shut. He took a breath and visibly calmed himself. "Anyway, Akira said you hadn't registered them. That was what decided me."

Minerva took a steadying breath of her own. "Camden."

He quickly held a hand up. "Minerva. I don't want to know who they are, where they came from, or how you ended up adopting them. As far as any of us are concerned, the two boys presently under Akira's ministrations are my grandnephews." He smiled, though it looked more like he was baring his teeth. "Easier on everybody, particularly the small minds working ever so hard at the ministry. The archives will still reflect that James and Terry are adopted, but outsiders aren't allowed in those rooms. They'll be safe enough."

The two sat in silence for a time, listening to the sounds of people outside starting their day. Minerva finally sighed and stood. "I hate to say this, but I'd probably better get some sleep. Even if it is already morning." She hesitated, then quietly asked, "Camden?"

He glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Thank you," she said. He smiled slightly but didn't say anything until she was partway down the hall.

"Minerva?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

"It's been good seeing you again. And listen, I know you always felt yourself a married-in around us, but we don't make that distinction here. As far as any of us are concerned, you became family the day you stood at the altar with Angus and said 'I do'. And we watch out for our own. If you ever need a place to stay for a day or a decade, there will always be room for you and welcome."

Once more a surge of emotions flooded through her. In the end, she merely said, "I may take you up on that. Good night."

As she walked towards the door, she heard his strong voice answering back. "Good night."

* * *

James and Terryfinally woke up three days after their rescue, and they recovered quickly playing with their 'cousins' on the moors. The two boys were ecstatic; they'd never been around that many children their own age before. At their urgent pleas, Minerva checked with Camden, then Fire-called Mrs. Longbottom to ask if Neville could come over to play. The answer was 'yes', and soon the shy little boy found himself running with a pack of kids ranging from five to three.

The fact that his two playmates were among the unfamiliar children gave Neville a bit of confidence the first day, but soon he was visiting daily and roughhousing with the best of them. Even Augusta remarked on how her grandson's confidence and coordination had improved. It wasn't long at all before the three boys were almost as tanned as their new friends. The only catch was the need for the designated babysitter to keep a close watch on the sky for dragons.

But none came near, and the children ran and laughed and played under the summer sun, inventing games when they decided there weren't enough existing ones. Neville got his first introduction to a broom, and while he didn't show the instinctive grace that James and Terry had, he was determined to get back on every time he fell off. In that way, a three year-old's stubbornness stood him in good stead.

And yet, as the summer progressed, Minerva noticed something about James that bothered her more and more as time went by. The injuries to his shoulder had always kept him from using his right arm properly, but the difference was showing up more than it ever had before. Already she was noticing him starting to use his left hand in preference when playing.

Poppy and Akira both assured her that this was normal, and that he would probably have trained himself to be left-handed by the time he got old enough for it to be a problem. Still, it didn't mean she had to like it.

August ninth turned out to be a day for the memory books. Minerva had been trying to gently set the stage for potty training, but it turned out she needn't have worried. In the presence of so many other children, almost all of whom were trained, the boys ended up training themselves. They needed help getting clothing back into place and fastened, but that was about it. Both James and Terry took great pride in their accomplishment. As Terry gleefully put it, "I big boy now!"

Minerva couldn't remember when she'd had a more enjoyable summer.


	13. Wingardium Leviosa!

Five reviews! Thank you, thank you! I feel so loved. Yes, I know, Goddessa39. It hurt to do it, but you just don't get bitten like that and come out unscathed, especially when you consider that werewolf wounds can't really be treated magically. Terry's got a few problems, too, but he got bitten in a better location. By the way, it's not James' hand that's hurt, it's his shoulder, which is worse because it means he doesn't have the full range of motion in that arm. RoughIslandSunrise, very astute. Shadowed Rains, Windy River, and Beth5572, thanks for the review love.

* * *

"Winadum Levo," James shouted, waving his arms around like a windmill. Terry yelled the mangled spell back at his brother with no less glee. Minerva, who had been lying on the sofa watching their antics for some ten minutes, was struck by a sudden idea. She pulled her wand out and fingered it lightly as she called for the twins' attention.

"James, Terry." Both boys looked up and spotted the wand. Identical looks of excitement crossed their faces and they looked up at her expectantly.

"All right, repeat after me. Wingardium Leviosa!"

"Wingadum Levosa!"

"Wingardium Leviosa," she said again.

After the fifth try, Terry was still leaving out several letters of the charm. James' attempt, however, was _just_ close enough. Minerva flicked her wand and James soared into the air momentarily before gently landing on the other end of the sofa. He shrieked in glee broken up by laughter. Terry's eyes widened, and he screwed his face up in an attempt to focus on the words.

"Wingadium Levio_sa_," punching the last syllable. Minerva rewarded him with a ride in the air to match his brother's.

James hopped off the sofa and danced around on the floor, shouting the charm. Then, all of a sudden, he was flying again, doing a somersault this time before landing. And then it was Terry's turn…back to James…now Terry again.

The game went on for a good half an hour, with the flights getting progressively wilder. The three were laughing so hard that it was sometimes hard to speak. Then Minerva decided to up the ante.

"Rictusempra!" Terry seized the word without hesitation, shouting it back to her almost perfectly. An instant later, he was hit with a Tickling Charm. From behind her, James shouted the incantation and immediately tried to dive behind an overstuffed chair. Minerva was too quick for him, though, and a beam of golden light hit the boy, leaving him laughing on the floor.

Terry scrambled to his feet and danced away, eyes sparkling so intensely that it was obvious what he was intending to do. An instant later he yelled the word and tried to run for it, laughing all the while. Unfortunately, his mad dash was in a straight line away from her. The spell caught him easily.

This went on for quite a while, only ceasing when all three of them collapsed in tears of laughter on the floor. Within minutes, Minerva found herself being used as a pillow for the now sleeping boys. She smiled down at them and decided to follow their example. Soon, all that could be heard in the room was their soft breathing.

* * *

A cheer rose from the left side of the makeshift Quidditch pitch as the Blue Team Keeper kicked the ball away from the hoops and one of the Blue Chasers snatched it up. A Red Beater sent a Bludger after the Chaser, making him dodge…right into the Bludger hit by the other Beater. Red quickly re-secured the Quaffle and headed for the goal hoops in a Hawkshead Attack Formation.

Camden leaned over to Minerva. "Blue Keeper's a new find by Roberts. Hard to believe he'd never been on a broom 'til he was fourteen, isn't it?"

The teenage boy pulled a Starfish, sending the Quaffle well away from the hoops again. Once she'd done cheering, Minerva turned back to Camden. "He hadn't? Why on earth not? He's obviously quite good!"

Camden chuckled. "That he is. His family's one of the more conservative around here, though. Just didn't believe that they should be going around using wizarding stuff like they were born to it. It wasn't until Jenny, over there, started dating the poor boy that he got access to a broom. I believe his first time was a romantic broom ride one night and things just went from there."

Minerva felt considerably startled. "Wait, he's a Muggle?"

Camden raised an amused eyebrow. "So?"

"But…the Ministry…"

Camden laughed. "They've learned by now to leave us alone. It's not like anyone around here is going to go around blabbing about magic. And if someone does, then we just go out and wipe their memory clean." He sobered. "It actually did happen once, about a century ago. And believe it or not, it was the girl's family that came to us magic-users and asked for her memory to be modified."

There was a long pause as the two watched the game. Then quietly, "We've all got too much at stake to risk anything. And I'm including the local Muggles in this. We live in a world of our own; with muggle and wizard alike using bits and pieces from both worlds, whatever we feel would work best for what we're trying to do at the moment. The Ministry complains, but as long as we all pretend we don't know what they're talking about, they can't prove a thing. And honestly, Minerva, would you deprive anyone of a chance to watch a rousing game of Quidditch?"

She had to laugh at that. Looking over the audience, it did seem as though there were quite a few people in Muggle clothing. Until now, she'd just assumed that some of the local wizards preferred the uncomfortable trousers and shirts for some reason. A thought struck her. "Cam, are his, I mean, the Keeper's, parents here?"

Camden grinned mischievously. "Cam, is it? I might have to start calling you Minnie, then."

She raised a threatening fist and he playfully threw up a warding arm. "All right, all right. Minerva it is, then. Anyway, the boy's name is David, and yes, his parents are here. They've been Quidditch fans since they were old enough to crawl. They just didn't feel a Muggle had any right being on a broom, that's all. But since he's all but married Jennie, I guess they've decided it's all right."

Minerva's intended answer was sidetracked by the twins, who chose that moment to run out onto the pitch in pursuit of the Quaffle, which was nearing the ground after being dropped. A Summoning Spell brought them back just in time to avoid a nasty accident. Now, how to keep them in their chairs without resorting to permanently Sticking them in place?

* * *

All too soon, the summer was over and it was time to head back to Hogwarts. Terry had shown signs of wanting to throw a temper tantrum when told it was time to pack, but quick action had averted the danger. It was startling to look back and realize he hadn't thrown a tantrum in almost six months. She'd rather gotten the feeling that he wasn't used to being ignored when having one of his screaming fits, and the shock had trained him out of them rather quickly.

Hagridmet them at the gates and quickly pulled the boys into a crushing hug. Fang trailed at his footsteps, barking with excitement. Within seconds of being released from Hagrid's embrace, the boys were playing with the dog; running and laughing and being bowled over without a second thought. Minerva grinned and levitated the luggage. Unpacking time yet again. She wondered briefly who Albus had gotten this year for Defense.

* * *

Minerva viciously dug her fork into some innocent mashed potatoes and wished she could get the old bat sitting across from her at the small table to shut up. Abigail Peterson was in her sixties and quite frankly, looked like a rather artificial fifty. Then again, considering the subject she'd been harping on for what seemed like the last millenium, that wasn't at all surprising.

"A genius, you know. He actually trained under a Muggle plastic surgeon for several years, but of course he adapted their techniques for use with the wand. Really now, you ought to take him up on his free estimates; they only take a few minutes and you'd be amazed at what he could do for you."

She paused and took a quick gulp out of her goblet, then gave a light giggle and went on. "After all, just look what he did with my poor face. I bet you'd look like goddesses after he finished with you two," taking in both Minerva and Pomona Sprout in one sweeping gesture. Pomona stared fixedly at the table as she ate, her expression fixed. Minerva could sympathize, she wasn't feeling too happy at the moment, either.

"Oh, don't be shy, little Zeke's very discreet about his customers. And as I said, a genius. After all, look at me, I turned sixty-three five months ago, and how old do I look? Truthfully, now." Another accursed giggle.

James and Terry had been gazing in puzzlement around the table, but they both looked up at the last words. "A hund'ed?" James offered brightly. Terry nodded in backup.

Peterson's jaw snapped shut in outrage. The rest of the professors sat up as one. There was a split-second of silence, then Poppy hastily got to her feet and ran for the door. "Left a box of hay fever potions out. Be right back," she shouted in a rather shaky voice as she ran.

That was the trigger for a general evacuation of the Great Hall. Even as the doors slammed shut behind them, Minerva heard the first shouts of laughter. She, herself, was fighting to keep calm. Peterson climbed slowly to her feet and walked stiffly to the exit in what she evidently thought was a dignified retreat.

A minute later, Minerva and the boys were alone in the hall with Snape, who showed no more emotion than he usually did. One eyebrow quirked. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I think those two demons are starting to grow on me."

Said two demons were staring up at Minerva in shock, uncertain as to what had just happened. The massive doors opened once more and Albus walked in. He regarded them carefully. "Would either of you two happen to know why the rest of my staff is presently engaged in an excellent impersonation of a pack of Laughing Hyenas?"

That was the last straw for Minerva. Snape was unable to speak for several minutes because he would have been drowned out by her laughing fit.


	14. A Growing Circle

Nine reviews! I'm over the moon! That said, I apologize for the wait. It's been a stressful week in both work and school (nasty test), and the last few days I've been going over a couple plotlines and people (coughTheWeasleyscough) and trying to figure out when each of them come into play, so to speak. I'd almost rather face You-Know-Who. Anyway, enough excuses.

Goddessa39, thanks! And I've got the Sorting ceremony mostly worked out. You'll just have to wait, though. Sorry! AthenaKitty, see last answer. And why would Dumbledore need to watch after the twins? Minerva's already got several babysitters. Crystal, that was very observant. Yes, he's going to have to deal with that, but not yet. Shadowed Rains, Windy River, Midnight's Gone (hey, you're back!), SmellyCat190, XanDutch, and Searching4Romeo; a very big thank you to all. I'm glad you're enjoying this. Let's see if I can get the next chapter up a little faster!

* * *

Why was it that the only time the boys got into trouble was when there wasn't any time to sort it out? And where in the nine universes had Poppy vanished off to? 

"Ifferary," James volunteered. Minerva started as she realized she'd been thinking out loud. The boy continued. "Somebody onna train sick."

Minerva groaned. "Someone on the train ate too much candy and got the expected stomachache, so you two naturally decided to make a run for it before Poppy noticed. And underneath the Hufflepuff table looked like a good place to be."

The boys looked at each other, then shrugged in unison. Terry looked a little wistful. "We in trouble?"

Minerva groaned again and snuck a glance at her watch. The first years would be getting out of the boats right about now…

"Erm, Professor?" A red-haired second-year looked nervously up at her. "I could watch them for you. I mean, I've got two younger siblings their age anyway. I'm used to babysitting." Earnest brown eyes looked up at her. With her two regular babysitters unavailable, Minerva made a snap decision.

"Accepted. James, Terry, sit down here and if you so much as move a muscle, I swear I'll stick you in place! Is that understood?" The twins nodded up at her, wide eyed. "Mr. Weasley, thank you. I'll be right back."

Even as she sprinted out of the hall, she could hear the boy saying cheerfully, "Hi, I'm Bill. This girl over here's Holly, and this is…" The doors closing behind her cut off the rest.

* * *

By the time that year's Sorting was over and Minerva could retrieve the boys, it had become quite clear that the need had vanished. James and Terry both seemed fascinated by the older children and by the chance to sit at one of the 'other' tables. Minerva let them stay. After all, what harm could it cause?

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was somewhat subdued, with sleepy-eyed children and teenagers facing up to the reality that their summer rest was over. Hagrid eagerly took up babysitting duties while Minerva handed out schedules. Professor Peterson, who had been sitting next to Hagrid, was looking particularly sour by the time Minerva made it back. 

The boys had still not been forgiven for their tactless remark, and as guardian, Minerva had found herself on the receiving end of more than a few glares. This was the first time Minerva had ever felt grateful for the one-year curse on the defense position. Honestly, if there was any chance she'd have to put up with the woman for years and decades to come…oh well, it wasn't going to happen, so no sense worrying about it. And what _were_ the boys doing?

Terry gulped another mouthful of air and paused, mouth open. There was a moment of silence, then a magnificent belch emerged. James shrieked with laughter and Terry looked rather proud of himself. Everybody at the Staff table turned to stare at the boys and Minerva felt herself go crimson. Determined not to lose her head, she calmly turned back to the boys and asked, "Who taught you how to do that?"

James pointed at the Gryffindor table and said cheerfully, "Bill."

* * *

Bill Weasley nodded sleepily and snagged the last two pieces of toast before David could grab them. His friend immediately started protesting and a minor argument sprang up, with his other friends putting in comments now and then. 

"Yeah, well, you should have…should have…" David's voice trailed off as he stared at Bill. Or rather, over his shoulder. Bill gulped and forced himself to turn around. Professor McGonagall was glaring beadily down at him, looking rather as though she'd breakfasted on storm clouds and thunderbolts. Unbidden, a list of his recent sins began racing through his mind. She surely couldn't have found out about the window already, could she?

"Mr. Weasley, my grandsons had a rather interesting talent to display this morning and I understand I have you to thank for it. You have just lost Gryffindor ten points and you'll be serving detention with me for the next week. I want you at my office at seven o'clock tonight, is that understood?"

For once, Bill decided to err on the side of caution and merely nodded. Maybe then she wouldn't give in to the obvious desire to hex him into the next century.

She stared furiously down at him for another moment, then contented herself with merely saying, "See that you're there."

There was a long silence after she left, finally broken by Holly. "Well, I guess we shouldn't have been too surprised. I mean, most lionesses _are_ quite protective of their cubs."

Everybody joined in the resulting laughter except for Bill, who still felt rather limp.

* * *

The corridor was nearly dark, but that posed no problem for James. Wolves had excellent night vision, and werewolves were no exception, even when in their weak human form. The dim gleam of the nearly set moon and the quiet yellow pools of light from the dying torches were more than enough to show the way. 

James was quite used to wandering around at night when Gran was asleep, but this was the first time he and Terry had managed to get outside their rooms. The castle looked very different at night, and he found it rather exciting. Beside him, Terry breathed in quick, shallow breaths as he tried to identify the source of a draft. James joined him for a moment, then paused as he caught a much more interesting scent. Something like Gran, only different. He turned down a side passage.

A young gray cat hissed and leaped back several feet as she became aware of the boys creeping up behind her, much to James' disappointment. Remembering Gran's advise on not scaring kitties, he knelt down and held his hand out. The cat watched him and Terry mistrustfully and refused to come closer.

Shuffling footsteps and the faint smell of cleaning products preceded the old man James had seen at meals but never gotten close to before. The cat miowed in seeming relief and quickly padded over to her human. James watched to see if she was going to turn into a person the way Gran did, but was quickly distracted by the man again.

"Well, well, what have we here?"

James ignored the question in favor of something more interesting. "She your cat? She pwetty!"

Terry nodded in agreement, then added, "We pet her?"

Something occurred to James. He looked around and asked, "Where your ovver cat?"

The man seemed thrown by the boys' comments. James rather got the feeling the man wasn't used to this kind of response. When he finally spoke, it was hesitantly. "Mrs. Bailey…died…this summer. Mrs. Norris is her replacement."

James thought about the cat dying. The man seemed pretty upset about it. He knew _he_ would be upset if he lost Gran. "Sorry." He hesitated, then pointed carefully at Mrs. Norris. "She watch affaw you too?"

The man swallowed. "Yes," he said softly. "Yes, she does. She's not very old yet, but she's learning."

Mrs. Norris chose that moment to slip away from the man's legs to take a closer look at James and his brother. She recoiled at first, but quickly moved in again, her nose working as she tried to pin down a scent. Terry started to kneel, but paused. Looking up at the man, he asked, "Ca'we pet her? Hagid say don't pet ammimal 'til he say yes."

James wished the man wasn't staring at them so hard. He finally seemed to make up his mind and nodded. "If she'll let you."

Mrs. Norris' fur was thinner than Gran's but a little softer. James could feel himself grinning as the cat arched happily into the boys' hands. Then she lifted her head and butted it into James hand. Feeling somewhat alarmed, he looked up at the man, who actually smiled a little at the boy's alarm. It looked as though he wasn't used to the expression.

Kneeling awkwardly next to them, he took James' hand and tucked it just underneath Mrs. Norris' jaw. "She wants her chin rubbed; it's her favorite spot. Easy does it...that's better." She purred and James started smiling again. Wait 'til he showed Gran what he could do!

Terry scooted in a little closer and looked up at the man. "Me too?"

Again the faint smile. "Yes, you too."

* * *

"He thought I was helpless, you see, because he knew I didn't have a wand. His mistake, he had no idea that I'd learned to use _other_ weapons instead. And so, when he popped his head out to curse me, I fired the rock I'd gotten ready in my sling and _smacked_ him upside the head. Didn't kill him, wasn't big enough for that, but it sure knocked him on his arse for a few minutes. And by that time, I'd gotten to his wand and _tied_ him up!" 

The two boys sitting in front of Argus were listening with suitably awe-struck expressions. Mrs. Norris sat purring on the desk, occasionally hopping down to accept a stroking from someone. Argus couldn't remember when he'd had a more enjoyable night.

It had been a long since someone had slipped through his defenses, but these two had done it good and proper. _And_ Mrs. Norris approved of them. She might not have much experience under her belt yet, so to speak, but she was half Kneazle, which meant she could tell very well if someone was worth trusting.

To knock the final erkling in the head, both boys were very interested in his old war stories from Grindelwald's day. Most of his compatriots who had been in the Civilian Corps didn't like to talk about it, and kids these days just didn't care. Maybe he couldn't share a Firewhiskey with McGonagall's boys, but they made very good companions nonetheless.

Still, it was getting pretty late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. He eyed the boys thoughtfully over the lapful of manacles he was polishing. The last thing he needed was for word of this to get out. The instant he showed any chinks in his armor those unspeakable brats known as students would lose all respect for him and his position. And he'd never hear the end of it from McGonagall, either. Hmm…

"You got out of the Professor's rooms, do you think you could get back in?" She used some kind of special lock these days, saying something about how she didn't trust a portrait to keep the twins inside at night. Not that it seemed to have worked any better.

James and Terry looked uncertainly at each other. It seemed that hadn't occurred to them yet. Terry shrugged. "Fink so."

Ah well, if the door wasn't unlocked, he'd just have to swear her to secrecy. Right. That'd happen the day he befriended a Potter!

He stared at the boys, trying to impress them with the seriousness of his words. "Look, you two need to be getting back to your rooms. I can take you there, all you need to do is get back inside."

To his surprise, both boys climbed obediently to their feet, though the disappointment they were feeling was obvious. _Well_, now. "There's one more thing. If you want to keep doing this, I don't want to you tell anyone, _especially_ Professor McGonagall."

The twins looked uneasily at each other. "Lie?" James asked.

Argus shook his head quickly. "No, not lie. Just…don't bring the subject up." At their blank expressions, he groaned and simplified. "What I mean is, don't talk about it unless the Professor asks you. Is that any better?"

There was a silence, then James said carefully, "Okay."

As good as he was probably going to get. Oh well. Argus sighed and climbed creakily to his feet, followed by the boys.

* * *

The alarm went off and Minerva went through her usual morning routine of deciding whether she wanted to ignore the blasted thing. Duty won out and she swung her legs over the side of the bed and met the cold floor with a flinch. 

'Dratted students', she thought bitterly, knowing that she sounded like Filch and didn't care. Last night, persons unknown had decided that Halloween was a good excuse to throw a party in the Gryffindor common room at one in the morning. By the time she'd gotten there, all but the most hidebound of the students had joined in. The noise had been incredible, as had the silence when everybody realized who had just entered the room. She'd never been closer to handing out a mass detention.

As she padded through the living room, the boys jumped up to greet her, just as usual. A few hugs and several cheerful 'good mornings' later, she'd sent them off to their room to get out of their pajamas. Then she paused and sniffed the air. Had that been a whiff of metal polish? She stood uncertainly for a moment, then shook her head and strode off towards the bathroom. She was probably still half-asleep.


	15. Christmas Joy

* * *

Time seemed to fairly fly by, so much so that Minerva was frankly shocked when Albus mentioned at a staff meeting that it was time to start finding out which students were staying ever the Christmas holidays. She then proceeded to get very annoyed when Snape handed over the list of Slytherins and stated that he'd gotten it done almost two months before.

Once back in her quarters that night, Minerva sat down and started the Christmas to-do list. Once upon a time, the writing had taken five minutes and a half-sheet of paper. At the moment, it was running to five sheets and half an hour.

A burst of merriment from the next room slipped in under the door and Minerva smiled. Easier, less messy, and quieter; other years might have been. But she wouldn't trade this for anything. Without realizing it, she started humming 'Here We Come Wassailing'.

* * *

Hogsmead looked very different in December. Holly and mistletoe were everywhere, and a few shopkeepers had enchanted the snow in front of their stores so that people walking over it didn't pack it down. It felt like walking on slightly uneven stone and looked like early morning before anyone had had a chance to stir. Icicles hung everywhere, some bewitched to glow different colors, and a few singing carols whenever someone walked nearby.

Inside the shops, red and green decorations were joyously splashed across the walls and ceilings, competing with sparkling silver and gold candles. Everywhere you could see people laughing and talking. Much to her amusement, Minerva noticed that some wit had put up gaily decorated wreaths on the fence surrounding the Shrieking Shack. After several minutes of sightseeing, Minerva reluctantly put an end to it. After all, the shopping wasn't going to do itself.

Gifts for the other professors were quickly taken care of, including the book Filius had been hinting about and a silvery shawl with constellations embroidered on it for Sybil. Albus's gift was finally in at the bookstore, and Minerva had never seen such puzzled people as the assistants. It was almost as if nobody had ever ordered a Muggle murder mystery from them before. Then again, Albus was known to have his…eccentricities.

The boys had behaved rather well overall, though they were obviously getting somewhat impatient by the end of the shopping trip. Minerva just smiled to herself. This was _exactly_ why she'd chosen Fly By Night as her last stop.

The instant the boys were in the broomstore, they froze in openmouthed awe. Brooms crowded the walls, ranging from a handful of the expensive racing brooms to the more common everyday models. She saw James reach out in an attempt to stroke the Nimbus Seventeen Hundred, but was repulsed by a Shielding Charm, much to the boy's disgust. Trust James to spot the best broom in the store. Terry was being somewhat more general in his wanderings, but he had an equally impressed look on his face.

Minerva smirked slightly as she made her purchases and slipped them into the expanded bag. And to think she'd worried about the boys paying too much attention for her to get their Christmas presents.

* * *

Christmas Eve turned out to be a time for visitors. Camden and Akira dropped by in the morning, and Remus arrived soon after lunchtime. The three hit it off from the start, and Akira was greatly interested to find out that Remus was also a werewolf. Remus was quick to guess the question Akira was too polite to ask, and quickly assured her that he was not the cause of their lycanthropy, merely a friend of the family.

The table against the wall was buried under a mound of presents, most of them very oddly shaped indeed. Minerva had deliberately put two of them in wizard-space boxes, and she rather wondered if some of the others were as well. The twins were going nuts as they watched the pile out of the corners of their eyes. Minerva had finally been forced to put a shield up in front of the table.

The day was spent talking and laughing. And then, about mid-afternoon, one subject in particular came up…

"You mean you've never even _heard_ of the Children's Concert?" Akira exclaimed in shock.

Minerva shook her head. "No, should I have?"

Remus shook his head and put his coco mug down on its Christmas tree saucer. "I certainly have, I usually put away a little bit through the year so I can attend. It's a charity event; all proceeds go to the Children's Wing at St. Mungo's."

Minerva thought about that one for a moment. "Really. Who performs? Is this orchestral or choral? What's the pricing like? Is this something that'll keep the boys' attention?"

Camden went briefly cross-eyed. "In that order; yes, really; both; it varies, depending on whether you sit in one of the private boxes or sit in the main audience; and it should, they let the children go on-stage during the last part." He looked up in amusement. "Did I miss anything?"

Minerva blinked. "I don't think so. How do…"

* * *

The concert hall building looked perfectly ordinary from the outside, but the interior was a different matter. The Floo outlets all had cleaning charms attached to them so you didn't have to put up with the soot problem and several alcoves were set aside for Apparating.

Everybody seemed to have worn their best, whether they came from rich families or poor. Off to one side, Minerva spotted Narcissa Malfoy standing next to a young boy who appeared to be her son. The boy was surrounded by a small crowd of children as he put a sleek black rat through some quite interesting tricks. His cheeks were flushed with excitement, and he looked as though he'd never been that happy.

Lucius was strolling back to his wife and son accompanied by a young family of four who looked vaguely familiar. Minerva frowned for a moment, then caught the name 'Brown' as Lucius introduced them to Narcissa. Brown…oh, of course! The family in Madam Malkin's that day.

Both girls had grown quite a bit since then, and were watching Malfoy's son and his rat with great interest. In turn, he was spurred on to trying even more elaborate tricks with the creature until Lucius looked over and took the pet away. The boy sulked for minute, then seemed to resign himself to the situation.

"Professor McGonagall! How are you?" A red-haired couple was pushing their way through the crowd over to her. It didn't take much thought to assign a name to them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It's good to meet you. Your son's not with you tonight?"

The man stepped forward and shook her hand. "Please, Arthur and Molly. And no, we left the children at home with a babysitter. We don't get to go out on a date very often, I'm afraid, and we weren't going to lose the chance. This is your family, then?"

"What? Oh, I'm sorry! Let me introduce you. This is Camden MacFusty, my brother-in-law, and his daughter, Akira. Remus, here, is a friend of the family, and James and Terry are my late daughter's twins. You all, these are Arthur and Molly Weasley, who's son is a second year Gryffindor."

There were general greetings and handshaking all round. Then something occurred to Minerva. "You have more than the one son?"

Both the Weasley burst out laughing. Arthur finally shook his head in apology. "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to be offensive. But we've actually got six sons and a younger daughter. I'd say the youngest two would be right around your pair's age."

Minerva blinked. "_Seven_?"

Molly nodded ruefully. "I'm afraid so. And I'd better warn you in advance; keep an eye on the twins. They're five now, and you never saw such boys for getting into trouble! If they don't start shaping up soon, they're going to be spending most of their time at Hogwarts in detention!"

Minerva winced, while Remus got a look on his face that clearly said he was remembering the Marauders. "I'll remember that, thanks. Well, I'm sorry to break this off, but I suspect we'd better be finding our seats."

Arthur nodded. "And us as well. It's been good meeting you."

Remus glanced sideways at Minerva as they slowly moved through the crowd towards the doors of the performance hall. "Minerva, I appreciate you getting me a ticket, but really, I don't mind paying for…"

Minerva gave him an exasperated look. "Remus, really! How am I supposed to explain to the boys that you were too stubborn to want to sit with them?"

He reddened slightly, but to her relief, she noticed a trace of sheepishness mixed in as well. "That's blackmail, you know."

"Sure is!" Camden agreed cheerfully. "Get used to it."

Everybody else just laughed, Minerva's turning into a gasp as they walked through the doors.

The hall had been enchanted to look like it was outside. Snow fell gently from the night sky and fairies played in the fir trees scattered here and there. The audience's seats appeared to have been cut from ice softly lit by red and gold and green-flamed candles. Minerva carefully touched her seat before sitting down and was reassured to find it both soft and warm. Akira leaned over.

"This is the real London Symphony, by the way. What most people don't realize is that the orchestra plays for both the wizarding and the muggle worlds. There are factions of the ministry that don't like it, but it's not like it's all that big a security risk. The conductors are different, though."

Minerva gave her a puzzled look. "Why on earth?"

Remus and Camden shared a laugh. "Because the ministry felt they had to do _something _and they couldn't forbid the orchestra playing because of the inevitable outcry. So they passed an arbitrary ruling that made it look as though they were doing their jobs, while at the same time avoiding angering anyone. Ivano Petrescu's the present wizarding conductor. A genius, you'll see…what'd I say?"

But Minerva was laughing too hard to explain about Professor Peterson. And then the clock chimed eleven and the music began.

* * *

The next morning, everybody was a little bleary-eyed, but no one minded. As promised, the music had been divine, and when the twins got tired partway through, they'd been allowed to doze off, finally being gently shaken awake just before it came time to go onstage.

Judging by the looks of things, they hadn't been the only children who'd been allowed to take a short nap, but they were the quickest to become alert again. Once up, the twins sat in awe of sound around them.

The best part had been when the children were allowed to sing along with the chorus at the end. Perhaps appropriately, it was Silent Night, and as they left the building, Minerva had felt as though she was floating along with the music.

All three visitors had stayed overnight, and for once, the boys didn't wake up until eight; when they proceeded to run around shouting about presents. Remus had gotten it worst, it seemed that James and Terry had woken him up by yelling 'Happy Kismas, Remus!' in his ear. His startled jump, followed by the subsequent fall off the couch and the crash-landing on the floor, succeeded in waking everyone else up.

Neville and Augusta showed up during the middle of breakfast, thankfully providing a distraction for the boys, who had been driving everyone else mad with their fidgeting. Finally, breakfast was over and Poppy and Rolanda joined everyone else in Minerva's quarters.

In minutes, wrapping paper had covered the floor and the boys were shouting over the presents they'd unwrapped so far. Minerva's main gift to them was greeted with openmouthed gasps before the twins dared reach out to touch them.

Rolanda leaned forward with interest. "So you finally settled on the Tinderblast One Seventy? Good choice, it'll hold up to a lot of rough treatment."

Minerva nodded. "That was the deciding factor, actually. They are boys, after all, and I know the antics boys can get up to."

Remus had the gall to look innocent.

Filch turned up towards the end of the present opening, bearing a carefully wrapped box and a defiant expression. On seeing Minerva's surprised expression, he muttered something about giving James and Terry something to do so they wouldn't be running around getting into trouble.

Hearing their names, the boys looked up and gasped as one before dashing off into their bedrooms. Returning an instant later, they ran up and proceeded to present him with some pictures they'd drawn. He took them gently, as though they were priceless jewels, and thanked the twins in a somewhat shaky voice. Becoming aware of everyone staring, he quickly declined an offer to stay and almost fled back down the hall.

Minerva closed the door thoughtfully. Filch was about the _last_ person she'd expected to succumb to the twins' charms, except maybe Snape. Interesting. She was pulled out of her reverie by Neville asking if that broom was _really, honestly,_ his.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of laughter and excitement. James, Terry, and Neville were bundled up so they could go outside and try out their new brooms. The Tinderblasts were still a good deal slower and clumsier than regular brooms, but the boys didn't seem to notice. Augusta looked rather nervous about several of the aerial stunts the boys were performing, but when a half-hour had passed and no one had suffered a serious fall, she relaxed a little.

The afternoon was spent playing various games and sports, with Albus finally winning suppertime's ferocious Exploding Snap war. Even Peterson allowed herself to unbend a little and displayed a heretofore undisplayed talent for Gobstones.

All in all, it had been a wonderful day.


	16. 2 and 2

A.N. In Britain, cookies are known as biscuits. And it's kind of scary that I've been reading enough fanfiction to know that...

* * *

Minerva carefully placed the toys on the table. "Now, if you have two broomsticks and I give you one more, how many do you have?"

James and Terry glanced at each other. "But that's mine!" Terry wailed plaintively.

Minerva groaned inwardly. "Yes, I know that one's yours, but let's pretend for a moment that it's a new one and that I'm giving it to you."

The boys just looked confused. She tried again. "Look, we're playing a game right now, and part of it is that we're playing I'm giving you a new toy."

They both brightened. "Really? 'Nother?" James was bouncing up and down. "Want blue one!"

This wasn't working.

* * *

"All right. I have two biscuits on the table and I add one more. How many biscuits are on the table now?"

"Gran, ca'we have a biscuit?"

Why didn't other parents have these kinds of problems? "If you can answer the question, you may indeed have a biscuit. Yes, James, that goes for you too."

Silence, then James started muttering under his breath. "One…two…three…" At the top of his lungs, "Three!"

"That's right! And here's your biscuit!" Terry looked very startled and peered closer at the biscuits with a slight frown his face.

"Terry?" He started and looked up. "Remember our counting practice?"

He nodded. "This is just like that. See, we have two, and then we have one more, so it goes one, two, three! Do you want to try it now?"

He shook his head, but continued staring in deep concentration.

Minerva set down another biscuit. "All right! Now we have two biscuits on the table and I add two more. How many are on the table now?"

James didn't even hesitate. "Three!"

"No, James, I'm sorry. If two and _one_ are three, then two and two _can't_ be three. Do you want to try again?"

Terry was looking at the biscuits with a very peculiar expression. "Gran?" he asked softly.

"Yes, Terry?"

He watched her face uncertainly, but with the light of discovery in his eyes. "There four?"

She felt as though her smile was going to break her face in two. "Very good, that's exactly right! James, can you see why that is?"

James was looking a little sulky that his brother had gotten it before him. " 'Cause one, two, three, four?"

"That's right! And I think such smart boys deserve a biscuit, don't you agree?"

Their eager chorus made it very clear they agreed.

* * *

By the end of the day, the boys had adding up to five pretty well down, and she rather felt she could have gone farther if she'd wanted. Both of them insisted on showing off at the table that night, with Minerva using lima beans as props. Snape ended up leaving the table early; claiming the end of his patience.

By contrast, Professor Peterson kept leaning over and offering addition problems for the boys to work out. It seemed they'd been forgiven their tactless statement. And really, Peterson wasn't so bad once you got to know her. Minerva couldn't believe she'd ever disliked the woman in the first place.

* * *

The Appleby Arrows didn't play the Wimbourne Wasps until April, which was unfortunate due to the increased rivalry the teams had been experiencing the last two seasons. With two weeks to go, the Daily Prophet had already covered no less than eight brawls. Minerva usually arranged to take a day off to see the match in person, but this year it looked a little too dangerous, particularly with children in tow. Oh well, there was always the wireless.

* * *

Saturday morning, Minerva turned on the wireless set and jumped back as a burst of static squealed through the speakers, followed by a shower of sparks. The boys, who had been playing nearby, turned pale and made a quick dash for their room. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

Three hours later, she was glowering at the essays she was supposedly grading. Almost everyone in the castle had looked the set over, but no one could figure what the twins had done to it. Filius thought maybe they'd uncharmed it, but had had no luck in _re_charming the thing. Albus had examined it, given the boys an odd look, and announced that there was nothing he could do. James and Terry themselves weren't talking.

To make matters worse, the match was one of the long, interesting ones. By Monday, the Snitch remained uncaught, the score was in the thousands, and the penalty list was almost as lengthy.

Breakfast Monday morning was rather tense, with clusters of students huddled around a friend lucky enough to own a wireless. Minerva fed herself and the boys as best she could with all her fingers crossed. She had the feeling the her pupils were going to be somewhat distracted that day.

For the most part, the students at least gave the pretense of listening to her lectures. Unfortunately, there were several enthusiastic fans in her fifth year Ravenclaw/Slytherin class, and she had to reprimand several people for trying to pass notes. Rare was the class when both teacher and students were watching the clock on the wall, but this was one of them. Minerva kept on with her lesson, trying to keep the fatigue out of her voice.

"Pay close attention to the changes in spell structure when adapting it from inanimate…" For the first time ever, she was suddenly interrupted.

"YES!" A Ravenclaw boy sprang from his seat, arms flung into the air. The echoes rang through the sudden silence in the room as everyone's gaze snapped to the suddenly frozen boy.

A summoning spell retrieved the wireless he'd evidently enchanted to be audible only to him. He gulped nervously as he tried to meet her gaze.

"Five points from Ravenclaw, Mr. Norton, and detention. Speak with me after class. And if you happen to be planning on getting your Transfiguration OWL, I would advise you to _pay attention _when I'm speaking."

He nodded jerkily and the lesson continued.

When the bell rang, there was the usual mad dash for the door. When everyone else had left the room, the boy walked to her desk as if approaching the gallows.

"I believe we'll make your detention tonight at eight. Mr. Filch has been feeling under the weather and he needs help cleaning the library."

Norton nodded quietly, his eyes downcast. She hesitated, then went on. "There is one other thing. I will allow you to have your wireless back as long as you can answer one question. What was the final score of the game?"

His eyes rounded in shock and he stared up at her with jaw hanging open. "Wha…Er, I mean, a thousand seven hundred sixty to a thousand seven hundred and ten, favoring Appleby."

Minerva resisted the urge to hit something. Not only had the Wasps lost, but she now owed Filius twenty Galleons.

* * *

Remus dropped by the following Saturday, showing up on the tail end of one of Neville's visits. He had met the boy before, but was rather startled by how much bigger Neville was. Seeing as how Neville was the same age and size as his two playmates, it got both grownups to realizing just how fast the twins had been growing up. Remus just shook his head.

"It seems like yesterday that we were sitting in a dark room with them sleeping at our feet having their futures discussed. And suddenly that night's two years behind us and the boys are running wild through the school." He paused and then snickered softly. "By the time they get into Gryffindor, they'll know every secret passage and room in this place. James would have been proud."

Minerva blinked. "Yes, I suppose he would have been."

Remus looked over at the odd note in her voice. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I suppose not. It's…silly. I've gotten used to thinking of the boys as mine, and it's a bit of a shock to remember who they actually are." She glanced over at the bedroom where they were taking a nap. "It's a little hard these days to connect them with their original faces."

Remus shifted uncomfortably. "Well, that was kind of the idea." He glanced around the room, and frowned abruptly. "You know, it just struck me, you don't have a single picture of Lily and James around."

Minerva felt suddenly defensive. "Well, how could I? I knew them through the Order, but as far as the public was concerned, I never saw them after they graduated. If I had any photos of the Potters up, it'd be a major tip-off that something wasn't right. Those boys have been through enough. I'm _not _taking any unnecessary risks with them!"

Remus visibly reined in his anger. "Teaching the boys who they are is _not_ an unnecessary risk! Lily and James wouldn't have wanted Harry growing up not knowing!"

Minerva's voice rose a little. "And when you come down to it, I don't think it top of the priority list for Petunia and Vernon either. However, I _do_ think that all four of them would have wanted their sons to live to grow up! Have you forgotten that Sirius Black is still out there somewhere? Or how about the Malfoys? Their son is going to be at Hogwarts at the same time as James and Terry. Do you really think that Lucius is going to ignore it if any hints come to his ears about the Boy-Who-Lived still being among the living?"

Minerva had only seen Remus blow up once before. This time, however, he managed to keep a grip on his temper. "No, I haven't forgotten. In fact…"

A soft noise from the bedroom door interrupted him. James and Terry were wide-eyed and looking more than a little scared. Minerva hastily got up and embraced both of the boys before leading them back to the sofa. They huddled up against her almost desperately. She looked up after a minute to see Remus watching her. There was an expression on his face that she'd seen him wear at times in his first year at school; the face of a boy who was watching the other children playing and knew he'd never be asked to join.

A feeling of guilt swept through her. "Remus, I'm sorry. It's just…they're too young to understand about secrets yet. I'm having trouble enough keeping the werewolf thing quiet. Believe me, when they get old enough to understand, I _will_ tell them. And I hope you'll be there."

He managed a slight smile. "Wild hippogriffs wouldn't keep me away. And I apologize as well. It…it hasn't been easy, these last few years. And it's trying to get a little bit worse at the moment."

She frowned. "What's the matter?"

"Have you ever heard of a man named Michael Brown? Was in charge of Muggle Relations at the Ministry?"

Minerva's eyebrows rose. The man just kept popping up. "I know the name. What about him?"

Remus' lip curled. "One of Malfoy's latest additions to his circle. The man used it to get himself transferred from the Muggle department to the Beast division. And right now, he's taking advantage of Malfoy's contacts to try to get some nasty anti-werewolf regulations introduced."

Minerva's mouth dropped open, and she made a mental note to start paying more attention to what was going on at the Ministry. "How likely are they to be ratified?"

Remus blew out the breath he'd been holding. "Don't worry about them this session; he doesn't have enough influence yet and Albus is fighting them tooth and nail. Later on, however…I just don't know." He gave a snort. "One of these days, it'll come around and bite him on the rear. I'd do it if I didn't have two very good reasons to stay out of Azkaban," nodding at the boys.

Minerva couldn't help laughing, and even Remus lightened up for the rest of the visit. What was going to happen, would happen. All they could do was weather it the best they could.

* * *

Severus Snape stood at the entrance to the dungeons and mentally debated whether he wanted to emerge or not. His original intentions had involved supper in the Great Hall, but the sight of Lupin walking with McGonagall and those hooligan twins of hers had had the effect of spoiling his appetite. With an inward snort, he turned and vanished back into the depths of the castle.

Ten minute later, he sat in his quarters with a simple meal sent over by the house elves and brooded. Why McGonagall _had_ to keep inviting that…_werewolf…_over was beyond him. The creature was a danger to everyone at the school. It wasn't even like she'd known him that well. Perhaps they'd bonded over the children. Lupin, having lost his best friend's son, would probably have been emotionally vulnerable to McGonagall's suddenly acquired children.

Snape frowned suddenly. Wait a minute…


	17. If A Equals B

* * *

Argus Filch kicked at the wall and scowled angrily at a terrified-looking group of first years, who quickly scuttled off before he could do anything to them. Professor Snape's request had been quite simple: unobtrusively obtain three hairs from each of the Evans boys and bring them to him as soon as was possible. That part was easy; he could do it in a instant with no one the wiser. The problem was whether he wanted to.

Snape had said something about attempting to prove that it had been the twins who had done some piece of mischief or other. Argus snorted. He was a Squib, not an idiot; he'd heard ickle firsties with better excuses than that! So the question remained, why the sudden interest in the boys' hair? And was this worth bringing to anyone's attention?

Mrs. Norris looked up at him anxiously and offered a high-pitched trill. He gave her the best reassuring smile he could manage. "It's all right, my sweet. I'll think of something." The cat eyed him for a moment, then turned and stalked off down the corridor. He stared after her in surprise. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

The stern look she gave him was worthy of Professor McGonagall. She said a definite, "Mrrow!" then took another couple steps towards the Main Hall before checking to see if he was following.

The light dawned. The last few days had been quite rainy. And as the skies had cleared off about an hour ago…

Twenty minutes later, he'd handed out seventeen detentions and threatened a great many more. Best of all, he'd acquired more than enough hair for his purposes. All he had to do now was sort through it and pick out the best matches. Argus smiled and lovingly stroked Mrs. Norris as he waited for his next victims to come in from the great outdoors. Yes, the perfect solution indeed.

* * *

Most potions having to do with werewolves were difficult to make and took a great deal of time. The Werewolf Identification Potion was no exception, requiring ninety-six hours and fifty-seven ingredients. It was also the one stubbornly remaining black instead of shimmering into silver.

Severus Snape scowled and threw himself into a nearby chair. He knew he'd made it correctly; that wasn't the problem. The ingredients had been in-date, and none had come in contact with any reactants. The only conclusion he could draw was that the Evans boys were fully human after all. A pity.

He steepled his fingers and carefully reexamined the available evidence; looking for possible errors. Point one: Remus Lupin, known werewolf, had been observed keeping Professor McGonagall company ever since her adoption of two children. Point two: it had been illegal for werewolves to produce children ever since the fourteenth century. Point three: this meant that if a male werewolf happened to suddenly lose his human mate, he would have to find another guardian for the children or be thrown in Azkaban. Point four: the two boys did have a passing resemblance to Lupin; James in particular. Point five: werewolves almost always sired or birthed multiple offspring; which the twins certainly were. Point six: Severus didn't know where the name 'Terry' might have come from, but 'James' was an obvious attempt to honor his late best friend.

His eyes absently ran over the designs on the tapestry adorning the opposite wall. His first impulse had been to contact someone in the ministry, but that option was looking less attractive at the moment. There would be no satisfaction in it unless Lupin knew who had caught him; and Dumbledore's trust would be lost if he revealed himself. The obvious answer was to wait and use the information at a later time. There would always be opportunities; and in the meantime he could keep collecting evidence; the first priority being to identify the late mother of the two children.

Severus stood and started cleaning his potion equipment. The solution was unsatisfactory, but it would have to do for now. At least one good thing had come of this; he now knew that Filch could be relied on to obtain certain items when he, himself, didn't want his hand seen in the situation. That could be _very_ valuable in future endeavors.

* * *

Time sped by, and it was June almost before anyone realized it. On June first, the boys greeted their fourth birthday with a great deal of excitement. Neville was not the only young guest this year; several students were also invited. Bill Weasley took charge of the Stick the Tail on the Crup game; casting Slowing and Accelerating charms on the picture depending on the age of the player. It was much to his shock that the guests of honor didn't need much of an edge. The day was filled with shrieks of childish laughter and a major overdose of sugar.

By contrast, the fifth of June was a great deal darker. Remus dropped by that afternoon, but vanished around nightfall. By nine o'clock, Minerva was worried enough to go hunting for him.

She found the werewolf with Hagrid in the hut by the forest; a half-drained bottle of Firewhiskey sitting between them and two empties on the floor. While Minerva presumed that Hagrid had drunk most of the contents, Remus' condition indicated that he hadn't been far behind. It was the first time she'd ever seen him drunk.

Hagrid was currently in a state of tears, and Remus was staring blankly at the table. Her first reaction was to persuade the two they'd had enough. Unfortunately, their return tactic was to refuse unless she took a swig…just one, mind. What harm could one drink do?

* * *

The clock on Hagrid's wall chimed out midnight, and Minerva jerked upright in shock. For a second, she was back in her bedroom and her alarm clock was ticking down the last seconds of the Dursleys' lives. The crackling of a fire hung in her ears, and she saw the flickering blue glow once more. Then a soft sound called her back to the present. The burning house shrunk back to Hagrid's fireplace, and the chiming was the old cuckoo clock opposite her. As if from a distance, she remembered that she'd sold her old alarm because she couldn't stand listening to it anymore.

Remus was staring at her from across the table. Next to him, Hagrid lay asleep, one arm cradling his head. By contrast, Remus looked almost sober. The only clue was the intense stare he was leveling at her.

"It was my fault, you know."

"And how do you figure that?" A distant part of her mind listened to her slurred voice and registered amusement. Remus leaned forward.

"You made me a prefect so I'd keep an eye on James and Sirius. But I failed you. I didn't speak up when I should have…" his voice trailed off uncertainly as he tried to recover his train of thought.

"You wouldn't be the first. And I still don't see how that ties in." Minerva tried to take another gulp of the whiskey, only to realize that the goblet was empty. She stared at it blearily for a moment, then remembered vaguely that there was a spell to refill it. How did it go again? She had actually forgotten Remus was there until he started speaking once more.

"Yes, but if I'd kept Sirius in line, he wouldn't have grown up to…to…he wouldn't have killed James. And Lily," he added as an afterthought. A slight smile creased his lips and he leaned forward conspiringly. "But don't worry, I won't let it happened again."

Funny how she'd never really thought about his reaction to his friends' deaths. But he was right; there had been more than one occasion recentlywhere he'd reacted rather uncharacteristically. Why hadn't she noticed? She watched his lips move, then suddenly realized that he was talking.

"…let it happen. Not them, not again." Was that a tear running down his cheek? "Why did it take so long to realize what…that…it was best to say so when something wasn't right?"

Her voice was gentle as she reached out to touch his face. "I don't know, Remus. But don't take Black's burden on yourself. You didn't kill your best friend; he did. And Remus…" she lost track of what she'd been saying.

He managed to smile. "You're right. I did…I mean, he didn't…oh, forget it. At least…at least the boys are all right. If they'd died, I would've too. They're…they're…" his voice trailed off as his arms slowly gave way and he slumped to the table.

Minerva stared blankly at him for quite a while before a flicker of movement from outside caught her attention. Yet by the time she'd turned to look (why did moving seem so hard at the moment?) it was gone. Then she heard the door behind her creak open.

"You see, she's all right." There was the sound of somebody sniffing the air, then the man's voice added, "In a manner of speaking."

"Gran? You okay?" Minerva turned to look at the voice coming from near her elbow. James and Terry were staring up at her anxiously; with quick side-glances at the two men snoring on the table. It took some concentration, but she managed to wrap her arms around the two most precious things in her life.

"Yes, I'm alright now. I love you two, you know."

Filch's face swam into her field of vision. "Wonderful.I don't suppose you can walk anymore."

She thought about that for a minute. "No, I don't think so."

The old man snorted, but glanced at the boys and seemed to relent. "Fine. Put your arm around my neck. You two, do your best to support her on the other side."

Their hands tickled, and she tried to say so, but wasn't sure if she'd succeeded. And then suddenly she felt herself being lowered onto something soft and she drifted into sleep.

* * *

Early the next morning…

* * *

Arthur Weasley stared at his friend and co-worker in shock. "You actually accused him of murdering Harry Potter?"

Perkins snorted with laughter. "Not quite. I merely implied that he had been behind the incident. Really, Arthur, I didn't say anything that half the ministry hasn't been. Besides, he was going on and on about the great tragedy; and frankly, he was getting on my nerves."

Arthur shook his head in worry. "But to his face? Humphrey, Malfoy is not some doddering incompetent; he had to have been well up in the ranks of the Death Eaters. This is not a man you take lightly, no matter the provocation!"

Humphrey just smiled smugly. "Relax, Arthur; there's nothing he can do. There were a dozen witnesses. If anything happens to me, everyone will know who was responsible. And I've been wanting to say that to him for the longest time. You ought to give it a go; it's very enjoyable."

Arthur just shook his head. "Not with the wife and children depending on me. Or worse, not while he could use them as an example. Humphrey, please, if nothing else, remember that that sort of thing reflects badly on the department, and we have trouble enough with funding and respect." He waved his hand at their surroundings. "If things get anymore cramped around here, we'll be sharing a desk!"

Humphrey was still looking amused, but Arthur finally managed to wring a promise of discretion out of the old man. Hopefully, it wasn't too late. Knowing Malfoy, it probably was.

* * *


	18. Changes Of All Kinds

Author's notes at bottom of page again.

* * *

Argus kept a close eye out for Professor McGonagall the next morning. While he'd quietly tipped Madam Pomphrey off to the professor's almost certain hangover, he couldn't help wondering what had prompted the drinking contest. 

He frowned, trying to identify the tickling feeling at the back of his mind, but the memory refused to surface. Oh well, it'd come to him. Best think about something else.

Hagrid had been left sleeping at the table, not that there would have been any moving him, anyway. Lupin had met the same fate. And considering the hangovers they were going to have, the quiet hut would probably be a blessing. McGonagall, though, had been a different matter.

The twin's faces still seemed to hang in front of him. Argus had to admit he was touched that they'd chosen to come to _him_ in their moment of need. Still, trying to get McGonagall back to her quarters had tested his resolve more than once. Thank heavens James and Terry had been assisting. He wasn't exactly decrepit yet, but he wasn't as young he'd once been, either, and the twins been a big help.

The twins…something to do with boys. Or _a_ boy. And then he remembered.

Today was Wednesday the sixth, which meant yesterday had been the fifth. The day Harry Potter had died. And if he recalled rightly, McGonagall had arrived too late to rescue the family from their burning house.

Argus' knees gave way, and he slowly sank to the floor. Her too, then. She knew what it was like to be helpless. To hear the screams and be unable to stop them. His eyes were blank as they stared at the bleak wall.

* * *

The day school was officially over, Minerva placed an ad in the Daily Prophet. Her old house had been nice; but after the incident with the kraken, she'd never really felt comfortable about the boys' safety. She'd visited it once, making sure it was in good condition and freshening it up before any prospective buyers came by. While there, she'd taken the opportunity to stroll down to the nearby town and look about one last time. 

Little seemed to have changed, and she'd decided to lunch in a small pub. The girl joking with a couple of boys in one corner quickly slipped back into serving mode and cheerfully headed over to her new customer's table. It wasn't until she returned with a steaming cup of tea and a shepherd's pie that Minerva noticed the scars on the girl's arms.

Her hand jerked, and the tea went over the tabletop. Brushing off the girl's attempts to help clean up, Minerva laughingly dismissed the incident, pointing out that it had been her fault. And after all, a few paper napkins did wonders in cleaning up the puddle.

Not until the girl had walked away again did Minerva allow herself to smile. It was good to know that the kraken's other victim had also survived. And from the looks of things, gone on with her life. The rest of Minerva's day was made rather brighter by that revelation.

* * *

The boys were thrilled to be back at Dragon Hall, and their playmates from last summer were equally happy to welcome them back. This year, Neville had a standing invitation to come by anytime he pleased. In practice, this meant that he spent almost all of his waking hours running around on the moors. With the fact that a designated babysitter was with the children at all times, Minerva found herself with more free time then she'd had in years. Not that she had any particular trouble finding things to do with that time…

* * *

"You know, Cam, you've managed to surprise me." 

Camden playfully raised an eyebrow as he examined a hybrid violet more closely. "Do I want to know?"

Minerva laughed. "It's not _too_ bad. It's just that when you were a boy, all you ever wanted to do was work with the biggest and most dangerous plants there were. And now you're playing with flowers even muggles keep in their gardens. Old age slowing you down?"

"Old age, eh? Well, just wait till _you_ hit sixty-one! Anyway, who said I'd given up my babies? I've got quite a greenhouse going at the moment."

Minerva gave the small garden a startled look. The only greenhouse she could see was a ancient structure in the back that looked as though it hadn't been used in years.

"Not that one; I didn't feel like walking through the snow during the winter. It's down in the basement. Safer that way, too. Want to see?"

* * *

The basement turned out to be a neat and brightly lit room with a heavily warded door at one end. And beyond that was a garden paradise. 

Green was everywhere, with the sun seeming to shine down from overhead. While obviously an enchantment, the imitation sunlight seemed to be agreeing with the local flora. At her side, Camden stared out at his accomplishments with a look that was a mixture of both pride and wonder. He seemed suddenly to break out of his trance and quickly cast shielding spells around them both.

"Just in case. I've got wards up around them, but better to have too much protection than otherwise."

Minerva nodded absently while slowly walking forward. A small animal browsed on a pile of crickets in one bed. It took a moment before she noticed the umbilical running from it to a nearby tangle of vines. She gasped. "Camden!"

Alarmed by the horror in her voice, he sprinted over so quickly that he nearly tripped over the wooden border of another bed. A look of relief covered his face as he saw what she was staring at. "It's all right, Minerva."

"But…that's a kraken! And it's captured that…"

He gently cut her off. "That's not an animal; it's part of the plant. In the wild, it grows in swamps that are rather nutrient-poor. As a result, it has to supplement its diet with whatever it can catch. And it came up with a rather novel way to do so." He gazed at it lovingly. "Some of the really old ones are big enough to catch pythons or crocodiles. I'd love to know what caused it to evolve that particular direction."

Minerva cautiously took a step towards the…thing. "A lure, maybe? It looks rather like a small deer, so perhaps true animals wouldn't be frightened off by the sight of it?" She frowned. "That is a kraken, is it not?"

He nodded. "Oh, yes. That's one of the Asian Krakens, and first cousin of the Himalayan Kraken you found last summer. Amazing, really, how different they are considering how closely they're related."

Minerva fought the temptation to roll her eyes. Now this was the Camden she remembered from forty years ago. It was comforting to know that some things, at least, did stay the same. Then she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

Camden held out his arm in a manner that somehow combined playfulness with courtliness. "My lady, will you do me the honor of walking with me?" Mischief sparkled in his eyes.

Minerva inclined her head gracefully, then spoiled it by bursting out laughing. "Certainly. However, you have to promise to tell me what I'm looking at!"

"Easily done, my lady. Hey, careful!" as he dodged a swat. "All right, all right! Well, to your left is a Greatest American Flytrap, more commonly known as the Okefenokee Mancatcher…"

* * *

Molly Weasley knew the instant Arthur Flooed home that something was very wrong. However, as he was obviously trying not to let any of the children mobbing him know, she kept quiet. But the instant they were alone in their bedroom that night, she sat down and crossed her arms. Arthur didn't even try to pretend. 

"I'm going to be out of work in another month."

Molly gasped. "Out of work? As in fired?"

He shook his head helplessly. "Not exactly. Do you remember back when I told you how Perkins went and got himself on Malfoy's enemy list?"

She nodded, barely daring to breath.

"Well, he's wasted no time. As of the end of August, my department's going to be farmed out to the Improper Use of Magic office. As Perkins and I will no longer be needed, we'll be unemployed. Subtle, and effective." He bowed his head for a moment, then sprang to his feet and started pacing, frustration driving his steps. "There wasn't even a _whisper_ about it until the owl landed on my desk. He just…Dammit!"

Molly forced herself to remain calm. She couldn't allow herself to lose her head; not while Arthur needed her support. "Was this aimed at both of you, or was Malfoy striking at Perkins with you as an added bonus?"

Arthur cast himself down on the bed. "That's part of the problem; I don't know. I've already talked to Roselyn down in the Beast department, but she couldn't guarantee anything until she knew whether helping me would take her down as well. She did say she'd ask around and see what she could find out. But even a best case scenario would mean taking a pay cut."

Molly thought of their already skimpy finances and winced. "And worse case, we have _no_ income."

Arthur snorted. "Worst case, Malfoy spreads word that _anyone_ who employs me is going to find himself in trouble."

There was a long silence. Then, "What about me?"

Arthur rolled over and looked at her. "That's a thought; if you don't mind going back to work. I suppose I could get used to staying at home with the kids. That's only if I can't find anything, I take it?"

Molly stared at the opposite wall as she put her thoughts together. "Maybe. But I actually got a job offer a week and a half ago, and it would mean both of us could work, if needed. You remember Summer Hengistson; has a vacation house on the other side of the village."

"Mmm, short, rich, and graying hair? Married to that idiot pureblood with more Galleons than brains?"

Molly nodded. "That's her, though I wish you wouldn't talk about her like that when she may be our salvation. Anyway, she runs a Primary School, and she was asking if I'd be interested in teaching the four-year-olds."

Arthur sat up, thinking this one over. "Ron's age. What about the others, though?"

"Well, Ginny's quite bright; I was thinking she could sit in on Ron's classes. One thing Summer mentioned; if you have any children in the classes you're teaching, you don't have to pay for them. So that leaves only Percy, Fred, and George, since Charlie's going off to Hogwarts."

He nodded. "That'll help. But would it be enough?"

She blew her breath out. "I just don't know; I can't remember the figures she gave me. I'll need to ask, assuming she hasn't gotten someone else in the meantime. At the least, it'd be one meal a day the children are guaranteed."

There was another pause; one that Arthur finally broke with a sigh. "Well, it's up to you whether you want to do it or not. Anyway, we should get some sleep. I'm sure things'll look better in the morning."

Even as he put out the lights, Arthur couldn't help chuckling at his wife's dark, "They'd better."

* * *

**karone-sukura, **sorry, I goofed. If you'll look at the chapter, you'll notice that I've corrected that paragraph to make it a little clearer. As for what was going on; the boys' 'birthday' is on June first. The drinking spree was the night of June fifth...the day the Dursleys' were murdered. And as for why Minerva joined them, well, she's carrying a lot of guilt over the incident. A bit of that was reflected in the nightmare back in chapter 5. **goddessa39**, yes, Snape is a git. So you like Filch now? Fine by me. And no, he isn't stupid; it's just that he gets underestimated by people who only see the Squib and not the man. **Windy River**, I'm updating as fast as I can and still get an intelligible chapter together. Between school and work, most nights I get home and just want to collapse. **baka-onna2003**, I know, most people have Argus as the evil background character. I'm kinda fascinated by him, though. **evil as hell**, writing more! And thanks! **Shadowed Rains**, nothing...yet. I'll trade the your heating bills for my AC bills. Oh, and I had a quick look at your website last night and I understand the -exile now. Interesting. **Atropa Haven**, cool, thanks! **Twin Tails Speed**, yeah, werewolves are interesting to read about and even more fun to write! Thank you! **Molly Morrison**, Thank you, I'm blushing. I know what you're talking about with the reviews. I'm kinda that way myself. And yeah, Dudley's another character who fascinates me. I've always wondered what he would have been like if he'd been raised better. And I guess this is kind of my answer. 


	19. Treading New Paths

* * *

A paper airplane floated in through the door and gently landed on Arthur's desk. "Weasley, your wife's trying to get hold of you. Improper Use of Magic fireplace." He was out of his chair and dashing to the door almost before Perkins could look up.

Molly's head sat in the large fireplace, biting her lips as she looked around at the busy office. Relief spilled over her features as she spotted her husband.

"Arthur, I'm at the Hengistson's. She says no, she hasn't filled the teaching position yet; though she has had a couple of applicants. The figures she gave me…well, it'll be enough to keep food on the table while we figure out our next move. It starts September first, Ginny and Ron'll be in my class, and I've managed to negotiate a slight family discount for the older three. It's a take it or leave it situation, though. Yes or no?"

Arthur closed his eyes. This was happening too fast. And yet, it wasn't like they had all that many choices. He opened his eyes again and nodded. "Do it. And in case I haven't told you recently enough; I love you."

"I love you too. See you tonight."

* * *

Lucius stared at his wife in disbelief. "Primary School? What for? I'd thought we were going to have him tutored."

Narcissa finished another bite of her poached egg before answering. "Tutoring was an option, but not one I'm happy with. I've been observing Draco lately, and his social skills need a great deal of work. He's fearful of other children, and that results in him allowing them to order him around like some common mudblood."

Lucius frowned. "I see your point. What did you have in mind?"

Narcissa offered a slight smile. "Hengistson's Primary School. It costs enough and is exclusive enough that the rabble won't be getting in. Those that enroll have enough clout that it might be well to have connections with them. I know for a fact that the Notts are sending their son this year, and the Welshires have been enrolling their children for the last six years. Melissa speaks quite well of it." She took a delicate nibble out of her toast.

He nodded; turning the idea over in his head. "I suppose I wasn't much older when my father first started introducing me to potential contacts. Let me think on it."

* * *

"Fingers out of your mouth, Terry." Her grandson nodded absently; never looking up from the picture-book version of Swan Lake.

Minerva stopped short in surprise. When had he started doing that? The offending finger now rested on the chair arm; ragged nail still gleaming from its communion with his teeth. Minerva shook her head. Great.

A thought struck her and she glanced over at James, who was laying on his back on the floor with his feet up on a chair seat. If he had a nervous habit, it was an inability to sit still. Even now, his left foot was twitching slightly as though he was trying to drum against the soft chair. And like his brother, James was totally focused on his book; completely unaware of what else he was doing.

Minerva sighed softly. They were growing up so quickly; when sometimes all she wanted was to freeze time for a few years and keep them as they were. She smiled wistfully as she remembered a saying that had been old in Merlin's time. 'Enjoy your children while you have them, for they will not remain so for long.' True, and good advice.

Terry's left hand drifted up to his mouth again.

* * *

Camden was glaring in mock ferocity at him and the other children, but James stared right back. Camden spun on his heel, then slowly surveyed the line before him.

"ALL RIGHT!" he barked. "SO YOU THINK YOU WANT TO BE QUIDDITCH PLAYERS!"

The answer was a full-throated yell from everybody, "YEAH!" James shot his brother an anticipatory glance. Terry answered with a grin. Off to one side, James could see Gran and some other adults laughing behind their hands. He frowned. Didn't they realize how serious this was? Camden caught his attention again.

"FINE! THEN I GUESS I'M GOING TO HAVE TO TEACH YOU!" He flourished his broom and started talking more normally. "First off, all of you know how to ride your brooms, correct?"

Everybody nodded contemptuously; even Neville, who was starting to get pretty good this summer. Camden grinned. "Just asking. Now, how many of you know what positions you want to play?"

Various answers came down the line, with most of them going for Seeker or Chaser. James noticed that Neville wanted to be a Keeper. He and Terry, of course, shouted out, "BEATER!"

Camden flinched, and glanced off to one side. James looked over and noticed gran making an odd scrunched-up face before she finally sighed and nodded. He frowned. What was that about? Oh well, grownups were weird sometimes. Even Argus, and _he_ kept decent hours. James exchanged glances with Terry before shrugging. Maybe someday...

Camden knelt before him. "Here. Try this on for size. How does it feel?" before hastily backing up.

James gave the bat an experimental swing. It was a bit clumsy, butit would do. Then he thought of trying to fly while holding it and frowned. Camden noticed his hesitation and chuckled.

"Not to worry; nobody's going to leave the ground this practice."

James' mouth dropped open. "But we supposed to be flying!"

Camden held his hand up. "Hey, easy! You'll be flying soon enough. You just need to get the feel of your equipment first."

James frowned, and saw his brother doing the same. "No fair!"

* * *

Despite not getting to fly, the practice was pretty interesting. Terry gripped his bat the way Camden had told him to and focused on hitting the big foam ball back at James. So far, neither had succeeded in keeping the ball in the air very long, but Camden kept saying they were doing fine. At least they were hitting it more often now.

The Chasers were trying to throw _their_ balls though a nearby hoop, and Neville was doing everything he could to keep them from going through. The Seekers were running around getting in the way and trying to catch a toy Snitch. They weren't doing a very good job of it, Terry noted, they kept losing track of where it was. _He_ was better at it than they were, and he wasn't really paying attention. An idea struck him.

"James," he said while looking over at the Seekers. James followed his gaze and looked puzzled, then suddenly broke into a wide grin.

Terry retrieved their ball from where James hadn't hit it hard enough towards him, then held it up in his left hand. James trotted over and steadied the ball with his right, then raised his bat. "GO!" Terry shouted, and they both swung at the pretend Bludger.

The ball went flying over the grass and smacked into three of the Seekers, who shrieked and ran. Terry was laughing so hard he almost couldn't breath; those other kids were so funny-looking. Then Camden came up.

"Hey," shouted one of the attacked Seekers, "They _cheated_! They hit us!"

Camden's mouth twitched. "Oh no, I wouldn't call that cheating at all. Beaters are _supposed_ to hit the other players. Besides, you're going to need to learn to dodge soon, anyway."

The Seekers werenow looking sulky. Terry just grinned at them. Camden chuckled and put his hand on Terry and James' shoulders. "Hey, tell you what. Why don't we go over here and practice hitting the _Chasers_? Good shot, by the way!"

As Camden led him and his brother off towards the goal-hoop, Terry looked over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at the Seekers.

* * *

Percy wasn't really paying attention to where he was going. No matter how much Mum and Dad tried to put a brave face on it, he knew quite well that there was a lot going on right now. It was hard to believe that soon Dad wouldn't be going to work anymore. And Mum? Teaching? That was just weird. He wondered what school would be like. Would there be kids his age? And would they like him?

Ahead, Ginny laughed and threw a ball of mud at Ron, who shouted angrily and retaliated. Percy allowed himself to lighten up for a moment. At least he still had his family, annoying as they might be at times. And truly, he didn't really mind babysitting. They were just too much _fun_. Not that he would ever say that in front of his brothers. A yelp of pain split the air somewhere ahead, followed by jeering laughter.

All three of them froze. Then the cry was repeated and Ginny broke out of her trance. To Percy's utter horror, she promptly sprinted off in the direction of the sounds, followed closely by Ron. Percy had been on the edge of running off to get Mum, but there was no way now. He took off after his little siblings and prayed he could keep them safe.

Branches smacked him in the face as he ran. Then suddenly the trees ended and he burst out into a field. Maybe a hundred feet away, a quartet of teenagers were chasing a large, brindle dog. Even as he grabbed Ron's arm, one of the boys hurled a stone at the dog, who staggered and tried to keep running on three legs. Ginny furiously hurled herself between the dog and the boys. "LEAVE HIM AWONE! BUWWYS!"

An eternity seemed to pass, then Percy was beside his sister, trying to drag her away. But it was too late. Sensing new prey, the boys slowed to a walk.

"Well, well, what have we got here? Little kids shouldn't be messing with stuff that doesn't concern them. They might get…hurt," he smiled. "And we wouldn't want that."

Ginny screamed incoherently. Ron was staring at the ground, as if looking for something. Then he knelt. Before Percy realized what his brother was doing, Ron straightened and hurled the rock he'd picked up at the boys; hitting one of them on the leg. There was a furious curse, followed by, "WHY YOU LITTLE…"

Percy shoved his siblings behind him and hurled himself at the boys, hoping that Ron and Ginny would have the sense to run. He slammed into the leader, punching as hard as he could. Something slammed into the side of his head, and even as he fell, a boot hit him in the stomach. Percy curled up and prepared to die. Then something hurtled over hisbody into the pack of teens.

Screams and shouts rose, accompanied by Ron and Ginny's war cries. The dog snarled as he attempted to fight off the boys attacking his rescuers. Percy could only see a red haze out of his right eye, but he pushed himself up and started hitting the nearest assailant. Ron plowed into another of the boys; knocking him off balance and over.

Ginny had gone for the leader, but was no match for him. Even as Percy tried desperately to get to her, she was hurled to the ground. There was a sharp crack and she screamed. The older boy, his face a mask of rage, took a step towards her, then froze. Percy felt his body go rigid.

The sudden silence was broken by the sound of running footsteps; then Mum was bending over the pile, Fred and George hovering anxiously in the background. Percy saw Mum flick her wand several times and the teenagers went limp. Then she released the body-binds she'd cast.

Ginny started sobbing; curling tightly around her arm. The dog staggered to his feet and walked unsteadily over to her. Mum hesitated, then allowed it; though Percy noticed that she kept her wand trained on the animal for a couple moments. However, the dog merely seemed interested in licking Ginny's face.

Percy all but crawled over to the dog and gently pulled him away. Mum looked up and gasped. She hastily finished binding up Ginny's arm, then reached out and grasped his chin before turning his face from one side to the other. The pain caught up to him then, and the world went an odd color and started spinning. The last thing he was aware of was the dog shoving up against him in an apparent attempt to hold him up.

* * *

The next few hours were a blur for Molly. She was dimly aware of herself and Arthur talking to a pair of Aurors. Then suddenly a mediwizard was bending over the children. She was protesting, but the man was laughing it off; saying something about how he was happy to help them out any way he could and had Arthur had any luck job-hunting yet? No? Well, had they tried the Leaky Cauldron, or maybe Gringotts? He'd heard they were looking for people at the moment. Arthur vanished, probably in search of a piece of parchment.

The bedraggled dog had gotten up sometimes during this and was trying to get to the children. The mediwizard started, then looked up in surprise.

Getting ahold of herself, Molly shook her head. "He's not ours. Well, I guess he is now, but he's a stray the children were trying to protect from those bullies. And when the boys attacked them, the dog came to their aid."

The man nodded and bent down to examine the animal. "Fine creature; mixed breed, looks like. He acts like he's used to people…I hate to say it, but he was probably abandoned. Happens all the time, sad to say." He broke off to cast a couple of healing charms on the dog's bad leg. "_There_ we go; that feel better, ol' man?"

Percy's hand snaked out from the sofa and rubbed the dog behind the ears. He was looking a bit groggy, but at least he was awake again. He gazed pleadingly up at her. "Mum, can we keep him, please? I'll take care of him, I promise. I'll feed him and bathe him and…and everything!"

One more mouth to feed. But then, he was probably the reason Percy, at the least, was still alive. She nodded. "Come on, silly; how could I turn him out after this? And no, you're not giving him his first bath. _You_ are going to stay _right_ there for the rest of the day. And that goes for you two as well," she added to Ron and Ginny.

Fred and George looked thoughtfully at the dog. "Can _we_ bathe him?"

Molly hesitated, then shook her head. "Maybe next time. Right now, he's in pretty delicate shape and I'd rather do it myself. Which reminds me; thank you both for coming and getting me when you did. Your siblings could have been very badly hurt and you did the right thing." Fred and George blinked in unison, and Molly had to stifle a slightly hysterical laugh.

Then, as Arthur strode back into the room, Molly suddenly remembered her guest. "I do apologize! Here, can I get you something? A cup of tea, anything?"

The mediwizard merely shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I need to be getting back to the barracks. I'm just glad to have been of help." He grinned widely. "Here's one in Malfoy's eye, at least."

Even the dog seemed to join in the resulting laughter.


	20. Black Decision

* * *

Rover?" Percy had only intended to get a drink of water; but the whimpering he heard as he slipped into the kitchen distracted him.

The dim nightlight on the wall vaguely showed the outline of their newest pet, who was twitching and crying out. Percy gently knelt next to the nest of blankets and touched him on the shoulder. Rover flinched in his sleep and let out a whisper of a howl. Percy shivered.

"Rover…Rover, easy boy, it's all right. It's just me, see, just Percy; I'm not gonna let them hurt you." He was stroking Rover's shoulder by now, unconsciously leaning closer and closer as he tried to reassure the dog. "I don't know what your last people did to you, but they were bad people and we're not going to let them hurt you ever again. Easy boy, I'm here…I'm here."

Even after the nightmare ended and Rover fell into a deeper sleep, Percy remained by him; hand running mindlessly over the thick fur and the soft rises of the dog's scars. He wasn't even aware of it as sleep crept upon him and his head drifted down to Rover's side.

And that was how Molly found them the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that one. By the end of the week, permission had been given for Rover to sleep in Percy's room.

* * *

Neville awkwardly knelt next to Camden and watched his hands closely as the man transplanted the sprouting ginger roots into the herb-bed. In his turn, Camden was working rather slower than usual.

"Now you've got to make sure that you don't harm the roots. One of the easiest ways to do that is to make sure the hole's deep enough. All right, take a look. Is it?"

Neville peered down intently before nodding. "Uh-huh. But that one ain't."

Camden patted the boy on the shoulder; blithely ignoring the earth on his hands. "Very good! Do you want to deepen it before you put the root in, or do you want me to do it?"

The response was a startled look. "I can plant one?"

Camden repressed a sigh at Neville's lack of confidence. There'd been a great deal of improvement since the first time he'd seen the lad, but still… "Yes, of course you can plant one. You can plant more than one if you want."

Neville thought this over. "Take care of 'em too?"

"You most certainly can! And not only that, but if you want to, you can help me with the rest of the garden. Weeding and watering and all that good stuff. And before you know it, you'll be big enough to help your Gran in _her_ garden!"

Neville wiped a lock of hair out of his eyes with a dirty hand and surveyed the lush yard. Then his whole face lit up. "Yeah!"

That night, Augusta Longbottom had never known her grandson to be so talkative. Once she'd finally put him to bed, she made a mental note to add a small section to her greenhouse for Neville's use. Funny, Frank had never been interested in Herbology. That had been more Alice's fascination. Augusta glanced back at Neville's room; feeling odd and not sure why.

* * *

August twenty-fifth was insane. As it was a Saturday, Arthur had been able to help with the shopping, but keeping track of all the excited kids was driving the pair of them wild. Not to mention the twins seemed to be finding out how far they could push the parental envelope…

* * *

"Mum, Dad! Snails!" Ron was shouting delightedly. His and Ginny's faces were pressed to the slime-covered terrarium glass. Meanwhile, Percy was inspecting dog leashes and Rover was managing to look rather affronted. At the moment, he had an old belt fastened around his neck with a ratty clothesline tied to it. Still, he was keeping close to Percy and seemed to be interested in his surroundings; though he did keep starting whenever someone walked into the shop. Fred and George…wait, where were they?

A quick look around revealed that the twins were missing _again._ Molly snarled and started considering transfiguring leashes for _them._ Even the _dog_ was behaving better! She just hoped they didn't get kicked out of Hengistson's their first day. Ah, _there_ they were!

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! YOU LEAVE THAT POOR RABBIT ALONE AND GET BACK OVER HERE!"

"Ah, Mum…" they complained in unison; even as one tried again to pry open the cage.

"GEORGE!"

Oh, dear. And they hadn't even gotten the children's robes or Charlie's wand yet. Or the books, come to think on it. Drat! Fred and George in the bookstore. She wondered if Arthur would consent to keeping an eye on the children while she nipped off to Flourish and Blott's.

* * *

Their first night back home, James had trouble falling asleep. Then just as he'd given up, the candle was suddenly burned out and the castle wore the stillness it held only in the late hours. James scrambled up and trotted over to Terry. His brother awoke with a start, then quickly fell out of bed onto his feet. Together, they slipped out the door.

James hadn't anticipated the darkness in the hallways. While he'd known that there wasn't a moon tonight, he'd expected the handful of candles that usually flickered here and there. Oh, well. Maybe it had to do with the older kids not being back yet. He shrugged and concentrated on not walking into Terry.

They moved silently through the long, silent corridors until finally a faint flickering caught James' eye. Grinning with anticipation, he ran towards it, Terry at his heels,and gently pushed the nearly-closed door open. Argus glanced up at the squeak and smiled.

"Was wondering if I'd be seeing you two tonight." He shook an admonishing finger as Mrs. Norris arched up against their legs and demanded a stroking. "Out of bed after curfew. You know that means detention, right?"

James smirked and dropped onto one of the twin cushions that were pushed up against the near wall. Terry leaned over and snagged the can of metal polish, then carefully put it where all three of them could easily reach. Argus casually tossed a couple of cleaning cloths over and chuckled as James snatched them out of midair. Within seconds, the three were sitting comfortably; the boys sharing a manacle between them, and Argus working on a stair railing.

James attacked the cool links with vigor, but he kept an eye on Argus. There was a pause, then Terry finally broke down.

"Tell us a story? Please?"

Argus raised an eyebrow. "A story, eh? Well, between the two of you, I'm about out of ideas."

James put on the most piteous face he could. "_Pretty_ please? You tell the best stories!"

Argus blew his breath out and pretended to surrender. "I don't know; the only one I can think of right now is about my Great-great-great-great…well, something like that, grandparents. It's about a goblin rebellion, and a young man trying to run his family's inn, and a brave young werewolf making her way in the world."

James shifted slightly on his cushion and waited. Argus paused and glanced sideways at the twins. "But then, you wouldn't be interested in that one…"

* * *

"Yay! He couldn't stop 'em gettin' married!" The outburst had been Terry's, but James was also grinning madly. Argus smiled back.

"That's right, he married her." He chuckled indulgently. "Matter of fact, I think I've got their wedding portrait around somewhere. I'll have to show it to you some night."

Terry suddenly frowned. "Why are they all upset 'bout her being…wolf?" he finally managed to spit out.

"Werewolf," Argus corrected. "And it's because most people are afraid of werewolves and thought Ceawlin was making a really big mistake."

There was a double blink. "Why were they afraid?"

Argus let out a sigh. "Well, werewolves are very dangerous creatures. They can't help it, that's just the way they are. But some of them have learned how to make it work for them. Look at Aethelflaed. She used her werewolf side to protect the man she loved and the cause she championed. Werewolves can be scary when there's a full moon, but many of them are very good people. Unfortunately, some wizards just aren't willing to look past the wolf to the person."

After this, the conversation turned to other matters, such as the rehashing of the moonlit battle and the riddling match Ceawlin had played with the hunters with Aethelflaed's life as the prize. But Argus noticed that the boys remained thoughtful for some time after. It _was_ a little puzzling that McGonagall hadn't told them any of the ubiquitous werewolf stories that had terrified generations of wizarding children. Then the matter was forgotten as the subject of Quidditch was brought up.

* * *

September first was a Saturday that year, but Bill and now Charlie were loaded onto the Hogwarts Express just the same. Percy stared silently at the train for some time before finally turning away with a troubled expression. When Arthur pressed him later, Percy reluctantly admitted that he'd never really realized before that soon _he'd_ be on that train, leaving his family behind. The ensuing conversation helped allay some of his fears, particularly when Rover padded over.

September third was even more hectic. None of the children were all that sure about going off to school, and Molly was frantic. Like her son a few days before, it hadn't really struck Molly that she truly wasgoing to beteaching a group of children she'd never even met before. She reacted by throwing herself into some last-minute cooking and snapping at everything.

But somehow, he and Molly managed to find missing socks and clean shirts and load everyone into the fireplace. From that point, it took only minutes to drop Percy, Fred, and George off at their respective classrooms. It took a little longer for Molly, Ron, and Ginny to get settled in theirs; but finally the other students startled trickling in and Arthur realized he couldn't delay his departure anymore.

He'd never heard the Burrow that quiet before, with only his and Rover's footsteps breaking the stillness. Even the ghoul was silent for once. Arthur slipped out the back door and sat down on the steps, trying hard to rid himself of the feelings of failure and isolation. Rover romped in the yard for a few minutes, but seemed somewhat half-hearted about it.

Arthur looked up in time to see the dog staring off into the woods, radiating an aura of loss and dejection. It became too much for Arthur and he called out. "Rover!"

The brindle dog started, then bounded cheerfully over and flopped at Arthur's feet. He reached down and rubbed behind the twitching ears. "Even after what you went through, you still miss your last owners, don't you? I guess that's why Molly named you Rover. I'd wondered, but didn't say anything. I guess we both wanted the children to be prepared when you finally left us."

He sat quietly for a moment, gazing unseeingly at the woods beyond the fence. "And strictly speaking, I guess there's not a whole lot any of us could do to keep you from leaving. But I wish you wouldn't. Do you even know what you mean to us? Percy…you know, I'd never thought about it before, but he's the only one of our children who doesn't really have anyone. It's the oldest two, then the twins, and even Ron and Ginny have each other. Percy never did have anyone. He was tickled silly that someone would want to devote themselves to him."

"And I'd be lying if I said that you didn't make me feel less of a failure." He heaved a sigh. "When Molly got pregnant with Bill, she and I talked it over and we agreed that I'd support us and she'd raise the children. And now…damnit, I don't like feeling so helpless!"

Rover cautiously put his head on Arthur's knee. He managed a smile. "Good old Rover. If I didn't know better, I'd say you understand everything I say. Even so, sometimes it helps just to get the words out."

He gave the dog one more ear rub, then stood. "Anyway, I've got to get going. Didn't want to say anything to Molly in case it didn't work out. Be home around the time the others are. Wish me luck."

* * *

Sirius' sharp ears easily caught the sound of the floo as Arthur left. He lay uncertainly for a moment, then got to his feet and trotted behind the hedge to untransform. For the first time since he'd met the Weasley's, he let his human face show.

But even then, he stood uneasily for a minute, then flopped to the ground and buried his face in his arms.

Thinking was easier as a human, but his brain still raced in frantic circles. Like a rat in a cage. A rat… He bared his teeth.

_Peter_ was the reason he was alone now. Peter, no, he'd decided in Azkaban that he wasn't going to use that name anymore. The Rat, then. It was the Rat who'd destroyed Lily and James. It had been the Rat who'd placed the blame squarely on Sirius' shoulders, leaving him without even Remus' friendship.

He shoved his face even harder into his bony arms, trying to drive the final memory away. The one that had finished him and ironically, given him a reason to live a little longer. The newspaper, with its blaring headline. Harry dead. The one last person in his family gone, and the blood was firmly on the Rat's hands.

He saw the burning house in his nightmares these days. Little Harry. And his new family. Hadn't they had a son of their own, come to think on it? All dead. And it was the Rat's fault.

But it'd been two years and there hadn't been any sign of him. England was really too big a place to find someone who wanted to hide. But he kept on anyway. Until now. Until three children had stepped between him and some bullies he hadn't had the strength to escape from.

Years ago, he'd been astounded at the elder Potters' willingness to take him in. That had been nothing next to this. The Weasleys were fighting to keep _themselves_ fed. But they were still willing to adopt a stray dog. Most people would have given him a single meal and gotten rid of him. The Weasleys had made him a part of the family.

Sirius rolled over and stared up at the blackthorn branches arching overhead. The sun got in his eyes, making him blink. Slowly, ever so slowly, the golden tones turned to orange and the changing patterns of shadow became a flickering glow.

_He stood in front of a ruined house engulfed in flames. Shouts echoed over the roar of the fire and he tried to call to them, to tell James and Remus and Lily and Harry that he was coming. But the house collapsed into a smoldering wreck before he could get to them. Peter stood smirking before him. "How do you like my handiwork? And you never thought I'd amount to anything. Well, I've got better friends now."_

_Sirius could hear noises underneath the fallen walls of the house, but he was frozen in place. Peter grinned slyly and held up his wand. The wreckage of the Muggle sewers opened up behind him. "Your turn."_

_As if from a distance, he could hear James and Lily talking. "You gave us to him; you murdered us. Now repay that debt. Let his blood spill as ours did. You killed us, it's the least you can do."_

_And Sirius was trying to protest that he'd been trying to protect them and he hadn't known Peter was the traitor. But they wouldn't listen. And then Peter raised his wand and pointed it at Sirius' heart._

_"Rover?" A tall, red-haired boy tugged at Sirius' arm. "Rover, it's okay, I won't let him hurt you."_

_Peter snarled between his rodent teeth, but Percy didn't seem to notice. "Rover, it's me. It's over, he can't hurt you anymore." Ginny and Ron walked up and placed themselves between him and Peter._

_"Rover…Rover, it's all right…we're here…" He couldn't see Peter anymore. Percy was pulling him away from the house and Ron and Ginny were tugging on his other arm. _

_"Rover…Rover, where are you? Hey ol' boy! Rover?"_

Sirius snapped awake with a jolt. The air was suddenly cooler and the sun had moved most of its way across the sky.

"Rover!" Percy's voice called out, starting to sound worried.

Sirius jerked upright, even as he heard Arthur's voice say something about the backyard. There was a peculiar clarity to his thoughts at the moment, and he found himself thinking that if he was going to go hunting for the Rat, now would be the time.

"Rover?" Sirius pulled a lock of hair into his face to make sure the brindle glamour was still active, then he transformed back into his dog shape. Seconds later, he'd knocked Percy over and was licking the boy's face while Percy shouted with laughter.


	21. School Days

* * *

Draco wished he could be like Mother, all calm and poised. She never felt afraid or intimidated. And she definitely never felt afraid of going to a new place. He apprehensively eyed the manor they were approaching.

Mrs. Hengistson turned out to be a short witch in some kind of floaty robes the color of dying grass. She wore the same glamoury smile a lot of people had when around Mother and Father. And the fawning tone she used when saying hello was definitely familiar. Mother's cool voice was the one she used when around those purebloods who weren't at her social level.

He tuned them out in favor of listening to the echoey voices of the other children imprisoned somewhere in the building. So many. He hoped they wouldn't be like Pansy, who treated him like he was a mudblood. Or Vincent, who took all his toys and shoved him around. Draco shivered.

Mother frowned down at him and he tilted his chin up like she was always telling him to. Then the slightly shrill tones of Melissa Welshire rescued him. "Narcissa! How lovely to see you here! My goodness, is this Draco? He's certainly grown since last Christmas. Do you remember little Kerri? She's starting her second year today. My, you should hear what she has to say about Mr. Wrinkle…her teacher. I'm sure Draco will love it here."

Draco shifted from one foot to another as the conversation drug on. Mrs. Hengiston glanced unobtrusively at her pocket-watch and seemed to come to a decision. "Mrs. Malfoy, Mrs. Welshire? I apologize for interrupting, but perhaps you would like me to escort young Draco and Kerri to their classrooms?"

Mother waved a dismissive hand. Mrs. Welshire didn't even do that. Draco tried to resist the impulse to look over his shoulder as Mrs. Hengistson led him and Kerri away.

The room she left him at a minute later had walls painted all kinds of bright colors and pictures of black markings here and there. It had several tables, each with three chairs before it. There were two extra chairs next to Vincent, but Draco immediately shied away from that side of the room. The only other seat was an empty next to two children with hair kind of the color of a carrot. He studied them for a minute. They seemed a little unsure about the other children as well. Besides, they were so busy whispering to each other that he didn't think they'd pay any attention to him. He made up his mind and snuck into the chair.

In front of him was a sheet of parchment, a lot of brightly colored quills, and some fat, colored sticks. The orange-hairs were using the quills to make all kinds of marks on their parchments. A voice next to him made him jump. "You must be Draco."

He looked up at a short woman with hair the same color as the two children he was next to. She seemed a little angry. He shrunk into himself and hoped that she'd go away.

Instead, she blinked and seemed a little taken aback. When she spoke again, her voice was much gentler. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm Mrs. Weasley and I'm your teacher. Did you want to draw a picture with the rest of the children? Ginny, just a minute."

He glanced around for support. "Draw a picture?"

She stared at him. "You've never drawn before?" An odd look crossed her face, then she got down on one knee next to him. "You've seen quills before, right?"

He nodded.

"Good. Now, what's your favorite color?" By this time, both of the children next to him were watching closely. Seeing his uncertainty, Mrs. Weasley went on. "Umm, let's try it this way. Which one of these quills do you like the best?"

He looked them over before picking out a brightly colored one. "This one. It looks happy."

"That one red," put in the girl.

The woman smiled proudly. "That's right, Ginny. Now, Draco; think of something that you want to be red…this color."

He looked tentatively up at her. "A house?"

"That's fine. It's going to be a very cheerful house, I think. Can you use the quill to draw a house on the parchment?"

Feeling a little more confident, he nodded. She smiled at him for the first time. "All right, then. Just draw whatever kind of house you want. And it doesn't have to be just red, either; you can use any of the quills you want."

"An' then you color it wif the crayons," the other boy said eagerly. "See, I made my tree blue!"

Almost before he knew it, Draco's parchment was filled with different pictures and he was having more fun than he'd ever had before. He was actually sorry when Mrs. Weasley called for everyone's attention.

"All right, you lot! I think we've all had fun with the coloring. Now it's time to start learning the alphabet!" She flicked her wand and summoned one of the pictures from the wall on the other side of the room. Another wave, and it suddenly grew a lot larger. "Now, this is the letter 'A'. It has two different sounds: short a, pronounced ahh, and long A, pronounced Ayy. Can you all say the short a? That's very good. Now let's try the looong A…"

* * *

Ron stared in shock at the pale boy who'd been sitting next to him and Ginny all day. "You don' know what a food fight is? What d'ya do for fun?"

Draco hunched in on himself again and shrugged. "P'ay with Seeker, watch Mother and Father, talk with Silke."

Ron shook his head and fished a piece of broccoli off his plate. He flicked his wrist and the green stuff hit Draco smack in the face. Draco yelped, "Hey!" He looked down at the stuff and added, "We supposed to eat that."

Ginny made a yucky face. "That boccli! You don' eat dat!" She threw a piece of carrot at Draco.

He looked at them for a minute, then scooped up the broccoli and cradled it in his palm. All of a sudden, his hand shot out and he squished it against Ron's shoulder. Ron shouted and retaliated.

Things were just getting interesting when a burly hand shoved Draco off his seat and grabbed his cookie from the table. Draco looked up at the boy and instantly looked back down at the floor. Ginny, on the other hand, shot to her feet.

"Give dat back!"

Ron glared at the boy, who smirked and shoved the cookie in his mouth. Or tried to. Ron could be pretty strong when he wanted to be and he didn't want that boy eating Draco's cookie. It didn't hurt that Ginny was helping by trying to pry the boy's hand open. Draco was staring in what looked like utter shock. Then…

"What is going on here?" Mum had her hands on her hips and was glaring at the scene. Ron was suddenly conscious of the vegetables in his hair and all over his clothes. But all she did was take the cookie, now rather the worse for wear, and hold it up. "Whose is this?"

The big boy tried to say something, but Ron beat him to it. "That's Draco's. He stoled it!"

Mum nodded slightly. "I see. Vincent, what do you have to say for yourself?"

The boy glared at them and looked sulky. "He wasn' eating it. An' I was still hungry."

Mum glanced over at where the boy had been sitting. "Well, no wonder! You haven't even finished your potatoes yet, much less your vegetables! If you're still not full after that, let me know and I'll get you some more. But I don't allow stealing in this classroom. Is that understood?"

He shifted his feet and muttered something indistinct.

"Vincent?" There was a warning note in her voice.

"All right. I sorry." He glanced back over his shoulder as Mum led him away.

Draco was staring at him and Ginny. "You not scared of him?"

Ginny looked proud. "I not scared a anyfing! Ron either!"

Feeling embarrassed, Ron changed the subject. "You fly?"

* * *

Of all the friends for Ron and Ginny to choose, Molly had certainly never expected a Malfoy. But then, he didn't act a thing like his father. Malfoy Sr. was arrogant and cruel. Draco alternated between arrogance and timidity. On rare occasions, always when he was with Ron and Ginny, he even acted like a normal boy.

It made her wonder, sometimes, just what his home life was like. Not abused, she didn't think, but almost certainly neglected. Returning good for evil rarely made a impact in real life, but this was one of those occasions. It gave her a certain satisfaction to be practically rearing the son of the man who'd tried to destroy her husband.

* * *

Two weeks into September, Arthur almost floated into the Burrow, snatched up his wife, and started spinning her around; much to the shock of his family. Laughing breathlessly, Molly gave him a kiss, then tried to recompose herself. "What's happened?"

"I've got a job!" he almost sang. "Passed the final test today!"

Molly pressed a hand to her mouth, then shrieked and ran forward to kiss him once more. "I _knew_ you'd do it! Where? And why didn't you tell us before?"

Arthur's grin was splitting his face. "I didn't want to disappoint you in case it didn't work out. But it did, and even my biggest doubters are convinced. You are now looking at the Junior Curse-Creator for Gringotts!"

Molly raised an eyebrow as best she could through laughter. "Curse-Creator? I've heard of Curse-Breaker, but never that one."

He threw himself onto the protesting sofa and pulled her down next to him. By this point, the kids, dog, and puffskein were all hovering around in excitement. Rover, in particular, was bounding around licking every face he could reach. Not that Arthur felt like discouraging the dog.

"It's for the high-security vaults. Mostly they can handle that sort of thing on their own, but sometimes they like a little added protection just in case something gets past the first few thousand curses."

He chuckled. "Number One requirement is creativity. They don't want any old spell that _Ginny_ could break. No, what they want is someone who can come up with effective new enchantments. I've spent the last two weeks proving to them that I was up to it. And my…um, goodness! You should hear what the starting salary is! Half again what I was making at the Ministry. _And_ it'll go up if they're happy with my work."

Molly let out a breathless laugh. "Half…half again…oh, Arthur!" She kissed him once more, much to the disgust of the watching children. Rover barked excitedly and soon children and dog were romping madly in the living room. For once, Molly chose not to break it up.

* * *

In the privacy of her quarters, Minerva firmly set three cups down on the tabletop. One, her own, held an Insomnia Potion. The other two were rather foul-smelling pain relievers. The twins took one look and got excited.

"We turn into werewolves tonight?" Terry eagerly enquired. Unfortunately, Minerva had just taken a sip out of her cup and, "Wow, Gran! That hit the bookcase!"

Minerva hastily put the teacup down before she broke it and wondered just how long it'd been since the boys had broken the compulsion Poppy'd put on them. Poppy had said that most children could throw one off around five years or so. This was one record Minerva rather wished the boys hadn't broken. Damage-control time.

"James, Terry, come here for a minute."

They looked up at her over their mugs, but obediently trotted over and flopped down at her feet. She pursed her lips and tried to figure out where to start.

"You two have probably noticed that I don't talk about werewolves, right?" Double nod. "Have you ever wondered why?"

Terry waved his hand in the air. "Because people scared of werewolves!"

She sat up in shock. "Well, I'm afraid that's very true, but where did you hear that?"

The twins glanced at each other and shifted uneasily.

"Was it Remus? Or Snape?"

Immediate shake of the heads, but neither seemed to want to give away their source. She groaned. "Please, I need to know. Who was it?"

Again they shared a glance, but this time James finally spoke up. "Argus," he muttered. "Didn' want us to tell."

Well, that was one mystery solved. Filch wasn't the type to want any of his secrets gossiped around the castle. Particularly if it had anything to do with a soft spot. She'd known since last Christmas that his feelings towards the boys were rather less than hostile, but this was encouraging, for more reasons than one.

"Let me guess, he asked you not to tell anyone, even me, that you and he talked occasionally, right? And this was before last Christmas?"

Both of them were obviously wondering where she was going with this, but they nodded. She leaned in conspiratorially. "Well, now it's _my_ turn to ask you to keep a secret."

Two pairs of eyes lit up in excitement. "As you pointed out, some people are a little worried about werewolves, so we're going to make it our big secret and not tell 'em. Think we can do that?"

Eager nods. James made a zipping motion across his mouth, which Terry copied a second later.

She glanced up at the clock and quickly downed the Insomnia Potion. "All right, you two, let's get down to the shack and turn into werewolves."

"YEAH!"


	22. Sniffles

Hey, it's me again. (waves) Hope you all had a good week, and hope you all have an even better weekend. Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate it!

**lady sakura cosmos**, thank you. **goddessa39**, thanks. And well, he is going to have to find out someday, but I'll do my best to keep it to a reasonable level. Deal? **Windy River**, well, I've updated. But now I'm feeling guilty for not updating sooner. Just a minute while I go hang my head... (;-p to you too!) **vila**, hey, I appreciate it! I'm basing the two off of my youngest two siblings and those kids I see running around the store where I work. It's nice to know that James and Terry are ringing true.And as for the 'furry little problem', yes, they did get lucky that they were bitten so young. They were even luckier in that they live with someone who doesn't (even unconsciously) make them feel that they're inferior or dangerous or so forth. And of course, it doesn't hurt that Minerva has easy access to pain-relieving potions for the actual transformation. ;-) **baka-onna2003**, (Awkwardly pats reviewer on back.) I'm sorry. Don't know what I can do about it, though, unless you want to see one of my first writings. (winces at the memory of the storyline) And no, sorry, they aren't. Minerva doesn't really see the need, as she's quite a good teacher and the boys have quite a few friends and companions where they are. And from my own point of view, it would really, really, complicate several future story-arcs. You will continue to see more of the red and silver trio, though. **Shadowed Rains**, yes, I'm continuing, though not as soon as I'd like. I'm really looking forward to the Christmas holidays. You know, those couple of weeks where you don't have school and can just sit back, relax, and let your non-exhausted mind loose. How much longer now? ;-p **Ketta dragontamer**, OH yeah! Wouldn't _you_ like it to be werewolf time? (grin) Yep, they're friends. I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with this particular trio. See you next week! **hpets**, don't worry, I have no plans to abandon this fic. I've got too much of it running around in my head for that! **Takarameri**, thank you. I've been having a lot of fun with this AU. Hope you continue to enjoy it.

* * *

Minerva renewed her vow never to let Rubeus anywhere near any of her secrets. Really, you could tell from a mile away that he was trying to keep something under wraps. She momentarily reconsidered letting him baby-sit that day, but was out of time. Rats.

"All right, Hagrid, what is it?"

He shifted uneasily and glanced sideways at her. "Dunno what you mean, Professor."

She resisted the urge to snort. "Hagrid, judging by the way that you're behaving, you're planning on exposing the boys to yet another of your 'pets'. What is it this time?"

He gave her an astonished look. "Well, er, well, yeh see, Umbra had 'er foal las' night an' I thought James an' Terry might like ter meet 'im."

She ran through the list of local animal names and came up with bony and black. "Umbra's one of the thestrals? The one in foal by Tenebrus?"

His face lit up. "Tha's her!" He hesitated and glanced over at the twins, who were playing with Fang. "Yeh see, I was hopin' maybe the lads could help train 'im up."

Minerva mentally calculated the time it would take her to get to the Transfiguration classroom and came up with barely enough. Thestrals. Well, it could be worse. "All right, you have my permission, on two conditions. First, I want to be there, so I'm afraid this is going to have to wait until tomorrow morning. Second, does this have to happen in the forest, or could it be here?"

He nodded eagerly. "Tomorrow? Tha's fine. Say maybe eight?"

"Eight's fine."

"Great! An' no, we need ter be in the forest. Umbra gets a touch nervous when she's in teh open."

Meaning she probably went on a rampage. Oh well, at least Hagrid would be there to distract the mare. Minerva strode briskly back towards the castle and hoped she wasn't making a very big mistake.

* * *

The skeletal mare swished her tail irritably and balefully eyed the man and boys standing too near the foal pressed against her side. Minerva was well aware that her own eyes held a similar glint as she watched the mare standing too close to her grandsons. By contrast, Hagrid seemed quite chipper and was humming under his breath some tune Minerva didn't recognize.

"Right. Yeh know Umbra, o' course, and this little guy 'ere is Caligo. Firs' thing, we get 'im used to bein' touched. See how I'm runnin' my hand over 'is neck? Give it a try, go on."

Minerva gripped her wand tighter. Umbra stiffened as James and Terry walked closer to the dappled foal. Terry cautiously stroked the small shoulder next to him even as James reached out for the neck. The unhappy colt gave a squeal and the mare reacted instantly.

"Whoa! Umbra!" Hagrid's huge hand came down on the mare's muzzle as she lunged for James' arm. Her eyes widened in startlement and she pulled back quickly. The boys froze.

"Ah, ignore 'er, she's jes being silly. Teh little lad wasn' used to bein' touched yet and she reacted a little strong. She'll get over it."

About ten minutes later, much to Minerva's relief, Hagrid did call it off, as he didn't want to overstress Umbra and her son. Then Minerva stiffened again as Hagrid offered to teach the boys to ride.

* * *

"Tha's good, easy Tenebrus, sit up an' hold with yer legs, James. There yeh go! Now, try letting' go with one hand. Don' worry, yeh won't fall. See? Easy, ain't it?"

James' grin was spreading over his entire face. Next to Minerva, Terry was watching impatiently. James carefully disentangled his other hand from Tenebrus' mane and stretched both arms out. "Look, Gran! I'm flying!"

Hagrid chuckled indulgently. "Not jus' yet. But yeh will be pretty soon at tha' rate. All righ', it's Terry's turn now."

Terry ran forward, but quickly dropped back to a walk when Tenebrus started dancing nervously. Within moments, he was sitting on the thestral's back while Hagrid led him around in a circle. James stood next to Minerva and rubbed his legs. "He poked into me."

Minerva couldn't help a smile. "Well, yes, he probably did. But he can't help all those bones standing out."

James giggled, then tilted his head to one side and studied Tenebrus carefully. "Gran, why's Caligo gray 'stead of black like his mum?"

"That's just the way thestral foals are. It's supposed to help them hide in the forest. You see, the dapples look just like the sun and shadow patterns in the woods, so it's harder for an enemy to find them."

James thought about that for a minute. "An' when they get bigger, they can run away?"

"Something like that. So you like riding Tenebrus?"

He nodded eagerly. "Feels weird, but _fun_!" He paused for a second, then went on. "Why don't thestrals hafta wear shoes like Terry and me?"

"Because their feet are harder then ours, so they don't need them."

James narrowed his eyes as he thought this one over. "Oh. Why're they harder?"

And the game of twenty-thousand questions went on the rest of the day.

* * *

Minerva and Augusta walked sedately on the Hogwarts lawn while their boys ran and shouted in the cold November air. After being cooped up inside for almost the entire week, it felt good to get out.

Augusta was watching the boys with a pensive expression. "I have to admit that when I asked if you'd be interested in introducing our grandsons to each other, I never thought they'd be _that_ good an influence on Neville. Ever since he figured out what James and Terry were doing with those books of theirs, he's been devouring every one I can get my hands on. Of course, he reads pretty slowly right now; but I still think it's safe to say that all three of them are well ahead of their level."

Minerva smiled, causing a trio of passing students to consider fainting in shock. "Well, bear in mind that it works both ways. Neville's a bit quieter than the other two, and I think it does them good to calm down now and then."

An especially loud shout caught both women's attention for a moment. Augusta finally broke the silence that followed. "Minerva, I hate to bring up a difficult subject, but have either of your two showed any signs of magic yet?"

Minerva's heart caught in her throat. "James, yes. It tends to be rather blatant when it comes up. Terry…no, not that I've seen. I keep wondering if I should take him down to Olivanders and see if any of the wands like him, but I'm really not sure I want to know just yet. I mean, if he is magic, then well and good, but if not, I don't want that defining him this early."

Augusta let out a soft sigh. "I know, I never realized how much I hated the term Squib until recently. I'm in the same situation with Neville. He's good with plants and such, but not a trace of anything else. Algie's been offering to see if he can surprise something out of the boy, but I told him to leave Neville alone, and that there was still time forhismagicto make an appearance. After all,a lot of children _do_ show their first magic while at play."

"Good for you. Snape offered to do the same thing…well, sort of. They _had_ just tipped the saltshaker over into his coffee-cup at the time."

The boys glanced over at the resulting laughter, but quickly ignored it when it became obvious that there was nothing interesting going on.

* * *

Both the twins woke up tired, cranky, and sneezing the next morning. It seemed the cold, combined with the aftereffects of last night's transformation, had overwhelmed their immune systems. Things got worse from there.

Minerva had, per force, taken the boys with her to class. Only to find that half the castle seemed to have come down with the flu during the night. The morning Transfiguration class was filled with the sounds of sneezes and coughs, most from the students, and the rest from the twins. She ended up scrapping her lesson plan for the day in favor of teaching them how to transfigure handkerchiefs from spare pieces of parchment. The lesson ended with her placing self-cleaning charms on the new squares of (mostly parchment-colored) cloth. Never before had she gotten such complete and total attention from her students.

Minerva looked for Poppy at lunchtime, but the mediwitch was nowhere to be seen. A runny-nosed Filius revealed that she'd decided to take her lunch in the Hospital Wing, due to the sheer number of patients she'd had. Minerva hesitated, eyeing the twins and trying to decide just how bad their symptoms were. After all, it was mostly just the sniffles at the moment. But by the end of the day's lessons, both boys were running a fever and she had no choice.

* * *

"Nasty case of flu we've got here," Poppy remarked as she looked the lethargic twins over. "Strain I've not seen before, either, and it's remarkably resistant to the Pepperup Potion. It'll still work, mind, but they won't be feeling themselves for a good couple of days. And before you ask, no, I can't babysit for you tomorrow."

"I wasn't planning on it," Minerva said indignantly. "I have eyes, I can see quite well how busy you are. I'll just have to bring them to class again." she finished with a sigh.

Poppy managed a weary smile. "I can imagine how well that…MY GOD!"

Professor Snape half-staggered into the hospital wing, great acid burns on his left arm, neck, and robes giving off the horrible smell of burnt flesh. Oddly enough, the damage seemed to suddenly halt right at the chin line. Poppy took a closer look at his neck and face, then gave a quick flick of her wand before dashing off to grab some potions and bandages. The glamour which had been hiding his face vanished, revealing yet more burns, mingled with scars from what looked like a much earlier accident.

Minerva took an involuntary step closer as she surveyed the damage. Poppy returned and started spreading an orange salve over the burns. Snape relaxed visibly and started breathing a little deeper. Poppy shook her head in worry. "A calming potion gone wrong?"

Snape bared his teeth and almost snarled. "Yes. The idiot girl didn't stew the Bubotubor pods before adding them. If there's any justice in the world, she'll be on her way home tomorrow, or better yet, before the Wizengamot."

Poppy wisely held her tongue on that subject as she carefully dabbed at a couple of the worst burns. "I can heal these, but it's going to take some time. While I'm at it, why don't you let me have a look at those scars? I might could make them a little less visible. And you know, if these are from that incident in your second year here, you should have come directly to me. Fresh wounds are far easier to heal entirely."

Snape jerked angrily. "Just take care of these. I'm doing just fine as I am, and I don't need your meddling!"

Poppy gave him a disbelieving look, but seemed to make a slight allowance for his current state. "Fine. Just these, then. You're going to need to come by the hospital wing nightly for about two weeks." Snape looked as though he was about to interrupt. "No, there is no argument about _this_! You _will_ report in, or I'll be speaking to Professor Dumbledore! Understood?"

He narrowed his eyes, but conceded defeat. "Fine," he ground out between his teeth. "Professor McGonagall, would you mind removing those brats of yours before they pass out or throw up or something? Otherwise, I refuse to be responsible for the consequences."

About to snap back, Minerva gave the boys a quick glance. Her words died on her lips. Both of them had gone pale and were staring straight ahead, their breathing quick and shallow. Terry had pulled his legs up to his chest and was rocking back and forth. James was merely shaking. Minerva wasted no time in grabbing the Pepperup Potions and rushing the boys out of the room.

* * *

The Pepperup Potions, combined with three large mugs of hot chocolate, finally returned the boys to relative normal. Tucked into bed, they fell asleep almost instantly. Minerva sat by their sides for some time, just thinking.

The incident had proved quite well just how fragile the boy's disguises were. Poppy had removed Snape's glamour without a bit of trouble. So how easy would it be for someone else to unwittingly strip James and Terry of _their_ glamours?" A flick of a wand, and everything she had worked so hard for would vanish. She sighed softly and tried to think of a backup.

There were hair-coloring potions, but most of those were designed to be easily removed by a wand. Besides, there were any number of spells designed to find out whether someone's hair color was natural or not. Hmm…

What about Muggle products? No magical ingredients, therefore, nothing for a spell to discover. From what she had picked up from her moreappearance-conscious Gryffindors, you had to apply the stuff at least once a month. On the other hand, once it was on, it was very hard to remove. Before turning in to bed that night, Minerva added another item to her shopping list.


	23. Nightmare

So what do you all think of the new review-reply system? I have to admit, I liked the old method better, but I don't own the site, so I guess I'd better play along. How was you all's Thanksgiving? Good, I hope. Anyway, bit of angst this chapter, but things should lighten up for a little bit after this. Thank you all, and hope you enjoy. (P. S., If anyone didn't know what I was just talking about on the review thing, have a quick look at the homepage for this site. It's under the entry for November 21rst.)

* * *

_The torches lining the walls kept flickering and slowly changing to a harsh blue as James came to them. The man's soft voice hung in the air, gently cajoling the woman who stood between him and his prey. "Give him to us. Hand him over and I promise to leave you and yours alone. What is the boy to you, compared to your life?"_

_He couldn't see the blonde woman, as she was on the other side of the wall, but there was a soft thump as though she'd accidentally backed into the cupboard door. "Go to Hell," she snarled. There was a soft splashing sound and the thump of a fist striking a body, then the screaming began. The scent of burned flesh mingled with a sickly-sweet odor and refused to go away. _

_An animal with hate for eyes sprang at him, catching him by the shoulder and flinging him into the wall. Blue fire swallowed the house and James could hear Terry whimpering somewhere nearby. He ran, but the fire and the man's laughter paced him easily._

* * *

It had been a quiet night so far, and Argus was considering turning in. Then the sound of sprinting feet caught his attention. He rounded the nearby corner just in time for two small bodies to plow into him, forcing him to grab a torch-bracket to keep from falling. He angrily seized the boys' shoulders and pulled them to their feet. The words hovering on his lips vanished the instant he saw their faces.

Both boys twisted and tried to pull away, forcing him to tighten his grip. "James, Terry, hey, it's just me. _Look_ at me, you two; that's right, it's just old Argus."

Terry stared wildly up at Argus for a moment before recognition set in, then his knees buckled and he sank to the floor. James continued to struggle, though his movements were getting weaker, as though he was sinking back into whatever shared nightmare had brought the boys here. Argus carefully picked the blonde boy up, grunting a bit under his weight, then helped Terry to his feet and headed for his office.

Once inside, he settled the boys on their cushions and carefully poured them each a mug of the coffee he'd brewed at the beginning of the night. A glance at the lads' white faces made him reach for the nearly-empty Firewhiskey flask on the shelf beside him. It was a mark of how distracted they were that it took a few seconds before the stuff started them coughing and gasping.

There was a pause, then suddenly Argus was nearly knocked over again as two tearful figures attached themselves to his legs. He awkwardly got down onto his knees and pulled them into a hug. "Easy, it was just a dream, and I'm here now."

He waited a moment before asking the next question. "Why didn't you go to Professor McGonagall instead of running wild through the castle?"

James sniffled quietly, but it was Terry who answered, his voice muffled because of how deeply his face was buried in Argus' shirt. "Don' like being woke up at night."

It made sense. As nocturnal as the boys were, of course she would have told them not to wake her up by playing too loudly. "Look, you two. I don't think that this was what she meant. If you ever have bad dreams again, don't hesitate to wake her up. I promise you that she won't be angry."

"Okay," Terry whispered back. Neither boy loosened their grip one iota.

Argus tightened his hug, trying to fight down the memory of Tim's terrified face. When he spoke again, his voice was rather harsher than he'd intended. "What was the dream about?"

James spoke for the first time, his expression distant. "Scary men, wif no faces. Just…silver. Scary men."

"Fire…" Terry whispered. Both boys shivered.

Tim's face seemed to float before Argus; fear warring with the knowledge that Daddy would make the bad people go away and everything would be all right again.

Argus snapped out of the trance he had been drifting into and almost hurled himself to his feet. Anger flooded through his veins and he welcomed it. The fury almost made the memories go away. Almost.

A bolster awaiting repairs lay in a corner. Argus grabbed it roughly and propped it against the wall. A jerk opened one of the cabinet doors and revealed a can of silver metal polish. Several quick daubs created a rude silver oval near the top of the bolster. He stepped back and looked over at the boys, who were staring at him anxiously.

"Come here." There was a slight hesitation, but they obeyed. "You see that thing?" Faint, hasty nods. "That's the scary man in your dream. Now, we need to make him want to stay away from you."

They stared at him blankly. "Make a fist. No, thumb outside the fingers, like this, see? That's better. Never put your thumb inside or you'll break it. Now, you see right here?" He touched his index finger about midway down the bolster. Both boys nodded. "This is his belly. It hurts when you hit there. So do it."

James was the first to step forward. He stared at the thing for a moment, then his hand tentatively swung out and tapped the bolster. He glanced up for Argus' reaction.

"That's right, except it needs to be harder. Like _this_!" A loud smacking sound bounced around the room as Argus' hand struck the innocent pillow. James stared at the thing with an odd expression, then he hit it again, rather harder this time.

Terry walked quietly forward. It was the first time Argus had ever seen hate on the boy's face. When he struck, it was with all the power he was capable of. And then James hit again, followed by Terry, and then James…

* * *

Almost two hours later, things had calmed down a little. Argus was down on one knee, explaining the finer points of where to hit an opponent. "Never go for the jaw, you'll just break your hand. The belly's good, but far better to aim a little lower down, between the legs. Hit there hard enough and he's out of the action. Got it? Good."

He cocked his head to one side and stood. "Hmm. Terry."

"Yeah?" The boy shoved a lock of dark hair out of his eyes.

"If someone grabbed you like this," Argus gently pulled the boy to him and put a restraining arm in front, "how would you get away? James, if you have an idea, feel free to speak up."

Terry tried pushing Argus' arm away, but to no avail. "Dunno," he finally said. James just shrugged.

Argus chuckled. "But the answer is right in front of you. What do you notice about where my arm is placed?"

They thought about it. James, "On his chest."

Terry nodded, then hesitated. "Could punch back an' hit him 'tween the legs, like you said."

Argus didn't hide his proud smile. "Good lad, Terry. You're starting to use your head. But you don't want to use that tactic too often. Instead, let's take advantage of another opportunity your attacker left you. Notice how your mouth is right next to my arm?"

"Bite?" James exclaimed in shock. "Gran says we not supposed to bite people!"

Argus nodded as he released Terry and turned him around so that both boys were facing him. "And for the most part, she's right. But the day may come when you'll meet someone who truly wishes you harm. He's not going to worry about how much he hurts you, and…neither…should…you. In a life-and-death situation, biting is more than fine. It might well give you the seconds you need to make a run for it."

There was a pause as the twins absorbed that. Then, "All right," James said slowly. Terry just looked dubious.

"Don't fret about it." Argus clapped a hand on their shoulders. "Chances are, you'll never need any of this. But in case you do, it's best you know how to defend yourselves. Anyway, it's getting towards dawn, and I'd better be getting you two back off to bed. And don't worry," as the boys suddenly showed signs of doing just that, "I guarantee you the nightmares won't be returning tonight."

* * *

Albus looked quizzically at Minerva's odd expression as she dropped into one of the softer chairs in his office. "Is something wrong? You look as though you've had a bit of a shock."

She shook her head in bemusement. "A shock, yes. Wrong? I haven't decided yet. Argus asked to speak with me this morning just before lunch."

Argus. This was interesting. "And?…" Albus prompted.

Minerva took a deep breath. "And, it seems that the twins chose to go to Argus last night when they had a nightmare. Further, it seems they've been visiting him at night for some time. I don't suppose you had any idea about this?"

Albus' eyebrows rose and he straightened a little. "No, as a matter of fact, I didn't; Argus is not one of my sources in the castle. Why on earth didn't they go to you?"

Minerva looked ashamed. "It seems that they took my request not to accidentally wake me up at night to apply to nightmares, as well. I've spoken with them about it already, and assured them that if they're ever scared they can feel free to wake me. However…Argus? I mean, I've known since last Christmas that he seemed to care about them, but I'd never imagined that they'd pick _him_ as a father-figure."

Albus sat back. "A surprise, yes, but perhaps not so bad a choice. Minerva, what do you know of Mr. Filch?"

She blinked. "Well, he's the castle caretaker; he's very good at repairs, especially considering he can't use magic; he's a squib; doesn't like many people; adores his cat. I suppose that's about all."

Albus nodded slowly. "Were you aware that he is a decorated veteran of the Grindelwald War? An accomplishment particularly worth noting on two counts. First, he is, as you pointed out, a squib, a small segment of our people who usually find themselves overlooked. Second, he was a part of the Civilian Corps which, again, received relatively little acclaim for the work they did. That he has no less than three medals tucked away somewhere is impressive indeed."

Minerva stared in shock. "I…I had no idea. He never speaks of it."

"Indeed. Few veterans of that war do, but he has perhaps more reason than most. He had a wife and three year-old son back then. Timothy, I believe the boy was named."

Albus was unable to help a sigh. When he went on, bitterness crept, unbidden, into his voice. "There was an attack on his home one night near the end of the war. As it turned out later, the Purifiers thought he had information concerning a rumored super-weapon. He didn't, but they refused to believe him. Argus' wife was absent at the time, but young Timothy was present and an obvious target. When help finally arrived, both Argus and his son were immediately transported to St. Mungo's. Argus survived. Timothy…did not."

Albus paused a moment to collect himself. "Argus and Cindel were divorced a few months later, and he spent the next several years drifting around, trying to piece his life back together in-between bouts of drinking. He finally ended up at Hogwarts, where Headmaster Dippet agreed to take him on as Caretaker Pringle's assistant. He has a daughter, born after the divorce, whom he has never met, and two grandchildren he has, but only because they are presently attending Hogwarts. I am not certain that he knows their relation to him."

Minerva forced her mouth shut. "My God. I…never realized. So when he met the twins…?"

Albus looked at her soberly. "It is only a theory, but I suspect that he saw himself given a second chance."

* * *

"Pewcy! See w'at I dwaw!" Ginny was shouting at the top of her lungs at her older brother, while simultaneously hugging said brother and his dog. Ron was settling for simply giving Rover a thorough head-rub.

Molly smiled as she packed up boxes of quills and crayons. Bless Arthur and his fascination for muggle oddities. It had been thanks to him that the first box of the colored sticks had entered the Weasley household, and they _were_ so much fun for the children. After you'd drawn your picture with themany-hued quills, you could fill in the spaces with the crayons. Wonderful invention, really. She wondered momentarily if the muggles had come up with anything else that good.

Percy walked proudly over and claimed his customary hug, then quickly retreated to the huddle of red-haired children forming next to the door. Fred and George were muttering together, never a good sign. A small movement on the other side of the almost deserted classroom caught her attention.

Draco stood forlornly next to a bright, red table, clutching a bundle of parchments to his chest. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the other children, and there was a desperate hunger in his face. Molly walked over and gently put her arms around him. He stiffened, then quickly relaxed and tentatively returned the embrace.

"Is Silke picking you up again today?" In truth, the small house-elf nearly always took Draco home, but sometimes one of the Malfoy domestics would come instead. As far as Molly could tell, his parents had never even considered picking their son up themselves.

Draco nodded quietly. "Uh-huh. Father told Abbey go away." He stared at the floor. "I liked her. She always asked what I did for school. An' she liked my pictures. Think Father'll let her come back?"

Molly couldn't help a sigh. "Probably not, I'm afraid. But I'm sure the next girl he hires will be nice, too." _If_ he hired another. Rumor around the school had it that the Malfoys were tired of having to put up with servant 'demands' and quite preferred the uncomplaining toil of the house-elves. A few of the more vicious rumors, which Molly had gleefully brought home to Arthur, suggested that Lucius quite preferred the _female_ house-elves. Be that as it may…

Draco buried his face in her shoulder as he gave her a tight hug. There was an indistinct mumble that might have been, 'I love you', or might have been nothing at all. Molly just held him close and wished she had an excuse to take him home with the rest of her brood.

* * *

"Have you picked up your room, Neville?"

"Yes, Gran," the boy happily replied. "Can I fly now?"

She sighed and glanced out the window at the cold moors, which were surprisingly rather bare of snow at the moment. "As long as you bundle up first and give me a few minutes to get ready."

Neville vanished so quickly he might have Apparated, most likely to dig his coat out from under the bed. Augusta allowed herself a thin smile as she collected a bundle of letters and a quill. One thing about the boy learning to fly, it at least gave her time to catch up on her correspondence. As well she'd put the Heating Charms on the gazebo last spring. It _was_ rather pleasant to get outside once in a while.

* * *

"Morgana, slow down!" the smaller of the dark-haired girls shrieked as she sprinted across the park.

"Nuh-uh, Lav, gotta…Oof!" the other girl gasped as she tripped over a tree-root and fell flat.

Lavender Brown ran up and tagged her sister's arm before taking off again. "You're iiiit!" trailed behind her. Morgana shouted and hurled herself to her feet as she tried to catch her nimble little sister.

* * *

Helen Granger chuckled as she and her husband cuddled up on the warm sofa next to the cheerful fire burning in the grate. "Our Hermione seems to have decided that she no longer needs her naptime."

Alex arched a playful eyebrow as he put an arm around his wife and pulled her closer. "Oh? Is she now running amok during that time?"

Helen swatted her husband before bursting into quiet laughter. "Do you even _know_ our daughter, dear heart? No, she still wants her hour, it's just that she's taken to curling up with one of her books instead of sleeping. As she puts it, 'Naps are for babies and I'm a big girl now!' "

Alex smiled as he gazed into the fireplace. "That she is. Hard to believe she's starting Primary School next year. And after that it'll be Secondary School and finally University." He tilted his head to one side."So what do you think, dentist or doctor? I could start 'accidentally' leaving a few of my spare tools around for her to play with."

Helen sighed wistfully. "Oh, let her be a child for a bit longer, she's growing up fast enough as it is. I…sometimes I wish I could slow time down, just for a little while."

He gave her a light squeeze. "I know."

They sat together in the dim room, just enjoying one another's presence.

* * *

"It's simply that I realized I had never properly thanked you for watching after the boys the other night."

Argus Filch snorted in what he evidently thought was a convincing manner. "Well, I couldn't exactly let them go wandering the castle getting into who knows what mischief. Besides, Mrs. Norris seems to have taken a shine to them, and I figured I might as well indulge her."

Minerva hid a smile at the old caretaker's transparency. Well, if that was the way he wanted it… "Whatever the reason, I do thank you, Argus. If you ever care to come up for a spot of tea, please feel welcome. I'm sure the twins would love to have you."

Argus tried and failed to appear disinterested. "Perhaps. We'll see. Make sure those two behave, now." There was a soft mew down by his ankles where Mrs. Norris was pacing, her eyes shining. Argus seized on the excuse.

"If you'll excuse me, Professor, duty calls."

Seconds later, Minerva could hear his wheezing voice shouting something about mud all over a freshly mopped floor. Minerva shook her head in amusement. Some things never did change. She supposed she'd better go see if she needed to rescue the unfortunate student.


	24. Identities

Well, I'm back! Hope you all are enjoying your Christmas breaks! Anyway, finals are finally over and it's time to relax! Happy Holidays!

By the way, the incident with 'Bludger' is in cannon, though not with the ending I put in here. It's in Rowling's 'Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them.'

* * *

"Ah, my dear Minerva, just the person I was hoping to see." 

The fatigued professor sank gratefully into the proffered chair, waved away a lemon drop, and accepted a steaming cup of tea. "No, thank you, we just ate. What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Albus smiled slightly as he noticed the 'we' she'd used. He wondered sometimes if she'd forgotten the twins weren't really hers. "Business called me to London this morning, and I thought as long as I was there, I might as well stop by Gringotts."

She groaned inwardly. Why couldn't he ever get directly to the point? He did this _every_ time. "Quite understandable." Two could play at that game.

He chuckled and relented. "I wanted a look at the Potter vault. You were aware that I was keeping it in trust?"

Minerva shook her head and took a sip of her tea. "I wasn't, actually. You were their beneficiary?"

A shadow flickered across Albus' face. "Yes. When Lily and James first went into hiding, they gave me their vault key for safekeeping. Sirius Black _had_ been their beneficiary, but he asked them to choose someone else. Apparently, he said at the time that there was a good chance of him being targeted by the Death Eaters and wanted them to choose someone with a longer life expectancy."

She set her cup down and frowned. "He…that's interesting. Was he hoping to deflect suspicion after their deaths?"

He shrugged wearily. "There's no knowing now. It _was_ an odd move. Perhaps there was enough of his old self left to not want any material gain from betraying his closest friends. In any case, I was hoping to discuss something slightly less depressing."

Minerva ran through several possibilities. "Does this have anything to do with how James is going to inherit his parents' monies when he gets old enough?"

"Not to worry, I've already decided to simply make him a present of it on his seventeenth birthday. I reason that thirteen years should be quite enough to think of a decent cover story. I admit that I'm still not sure what I'm going to do about Terry, however. His family's accounts were given to his Aunt Marjorie, and I cannot, in any conscience, take them from her. And we happen to be going off topic again."

Minerva didn't bother to cover her puzzlement. Noticing that, Albus' eyes acquired a twinkle. Reaching into a desk drawer, he pulled out a small box and set it in front of her. "Lily and James must have tucked these into their vault just before going into hiding. A sensible precaution, and one that, regrettably, proved justified."

Minerva removed the cardboard lid and gasped in amazement.

* * *

The seasons drifted slowly by, with Autumn giving early way to Winter and the first _real_ snows of the year. Despite the bite of the cold and the effort of walking through the thick snow, most were heartily enjoying the winter paradise. And in one case, for the first time ever...

* * *

"You can't hide forever, you know," a voice called out amusedly. Draco pressed himself a little tighter against the tree trunk he was behind. As the soft pair of footsteps approached, he carefully eased himself around, making sure to keep the tree between him and the hunters. Another second and he could make a run for it… 

"Ah-ha! There he is! GET HIM!" A hail of snowballs flew through the air as Fred and George used up some of their stock. Draco sprinted between the trees, dodging as best he could. Dashing wildly between two boulders, he dove behind one. Fred and George ran through a second later…and were hit with a blizzard of snowballs. Shouting and sputtering, they quickly retreated. Draco, Ron, and Ginny nearly split their sides laughing at the success of their ambush. Then…

"GOTCHA!" A wave of snow was shoved off the top of the boulder they were crouched behind and cascaded down on top of them. As the three floundered around trying to get to their feet, they could hear the twin's exultant whoops. Ron spit a mouthful of snow out and glared through the rock in his siblings' direction. Draco stared in bewilderment at Ginny, who was still on her back and was waving her arms and legs back and forth.

"What you doing?"

Ginny grinned and got carefully up. "Makin' angels. See?"

Draco was carefully studying the pattern in the snow when Ron knocked him over. "Hey!"

Ron sniggered as he dropped onto his back. "Wave your arms. C'mon, it's fun!"

Draco took another few seconds to make sure of exactly what Ron and Ginny were doing, then gave it a try himself. They were right, it _was_ fun. Just for a second, he silently wished Mother and Father would let his friends come over to play instead of the children they usually invited. He knew better than to ask, though. He couldn't take the chance of being forbidden to ever see them again.

* * *

Minerva rolled over and stared up at her bedroom ceiling. She wasn't sure how late it was, but she had the feeling that it had to be past midnight. And she couldn't get back to sleep, no matter how hard she tried. Finally, she got up, pulled on a housecoat and slippers and gently opened the twin's bedroom door. 

Silence greeted her and she nearly had a heart attack until she realized that the boys must have snuck out. She hesitated, then smiled suddenly and headed for the door herself. Blame the cat in her, but she'd always been curious about just what Filch and the twins did together.

* * *

Walking the corridors at night was always an odd experience. There was just something a bit creepy about being alone and with almost no light to keep you company. Minerva snorted inwardly and reminded herself that she'd long ago gotten over her childhood fear of the dark. Besides, she was in a place that she knew well and considered to be home. 

Voices and the faint gleamings of light from around the edges of a closed door guided her to Filch's office. She vaguely recognized the story he was telling as having happened during the Giant Wars. The twins were making oohing and ahhing noises at the appropriate moments and sounded as though they were really enjoying themselves. There was a sudden clang, as if an especially expansive gesture had just knocked something metallic over, followed by Filch muttering in disgust as he picked whatever it was up. The laughter of the boys was clearly heard through the oak door. Minerva grinned to herself, pulled her housecoat tighter, and sat down against the wall opposite the doorway.

And that was where Argus Filch and the twins found her, fast asleep, some two hours later when the storytelling/trophy polishing session had ended for the night.

* * *

Rover lifted his head off his cushion as Fred and George slipped noiselessly out of the house one brisk Sunday morning. He momentarily considered joining them, then decided against. The morning was too cold and the cushion too warm. Besides, they were already holding Bludger the puffskein, so it wasn't like they didn't already have someone to play with. He sighed contentedly and laid his head back down on the faded cushion. Then he lifted it again. What were they doing next to the broom shed? And with their…BEATER BATS? He was out the door so fast it didn't slam on his tail the way it usually did. 

"Hey, Rover, gerrof me! Rover…whoa, HEY! Bring'im back, BAD DOG!"

Rover was having a hard time holding on to the poor furball of a puffskein while running and he almost dropped it twice while dodging the irate twins. 'Finally!' he exclaimed to himself as Molly Weasley popped out of the house while yanking on her coat.

Molly looked ready to give the twins a telling-off anyway, for waking her up at that hour, but then she noticed the beater bats her sons were holding and the puffskein that Rover dropped at her feet. George gulped suddenly. There were precisely two seconds of silence as the pieces started fitting themselves together and she realized what had been going on, then Molly's clear tones were enough to wake everyone else in the Burrow.

There were times, Rover mused as he walked dazedly back to his abandoned cushion while trying to clear the ringing from his ears, when having a dog's hearing could be a real liability. A loud smacking sound came from the direction of the broom shed and he winced. He had the feeling the twins wouldn't be sitting down anytime soon.

Then Bludger cuddled up against him as he lay back down and Rover lost all sympathy for the twins. They could quite easily have killed the poor puffskein! Honestly, _he'd_ never been that much of an idiot. Hadn't he? Rover shifted uneasily as a list of some of his former exploits drifted through his head. Maybe it was no wonder everyone'd been so quick to accept him as Lily and James' betrayer.

Molly stomped into the house and slammed the door, breaking into Rover's train of thought. She looked as though she was about to head into the kitchen, but stopped suddenly and detoured over to Rover's cushion. Kneeling, she gave Bludger a quick examination, then, satisfied the furball was fine, she gave Rover one of the most thorough praise/head-rubbing sessions he'd ever had. And once that was over, and breakfast was served, Rover was delighted to discover that there were several sausage links in his bowl.

* * *

"Remus?" 

The werewolf started and looked over. "Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. What did you say?"

Minerva snorted in amusement. "That much was obvious. I just asked you if you wanted horseradish or tripe in your tea."

Remus shuddered in not-quite-mock horror. "Thank you, I think I'll stick with lemon."

"How boring," Minerva said dryly. There was a pause while Remus slowly lowered the water-level in his cup. A blizzard beat at the castle walls, but things were snug and calm inside. The twins lay on the hearthrug playing one of the board games they'd gotten from Argus for Christmas. Minerva sat back and watched her guest thoughtfully. He'd been distracted all day now, and his gaze kept drifting over to the boys. She sighed.

"Remus?"

A look of guilt and dismay spread over his face. "Please don't tell me I zoned out again."

She was hard put to keep from laughing. "No, no, you didn't. I was just wondering what was bothering you. And don't you try denying it, either, you're a worse actor then Peter ever was!

"Oh, God," he winced. "And here I thought I was doing so well!"

There was a moment of shared laughter, followed by a pause, which Minerva finally broke. "Remus," she said chidingly, "I know you can't have forgotten _that_ quickly."

He held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right! It's just…it's a bit of a rough subject and I guess I'm not really sure where to begin."

Minerva waited while he took a nervous swallow of his tea. "I guess…you remember about a year back when Hagrid and I had _way_ too much Firewhiskey and we managed to get you good and drunk as well?"

He took her wince as affirmation and hurriedly went on as if afraid of losing his nerve. "Anyway, it got me to thinking about some stuff I'd not really wanted to face, and among other things, well, the boys. Specifically, their 'furry little problem'."

Minerva would have laughed, but she was starting to wonder just where he was going with this. An icy fist started clenching inside. Oblivious, Remus continued, the words tumbling over one another in their rush to meet the world.

"I mean, look around. Everywhere, there're men like Lucius Malfoy and Michael Brown working to make the world just that little bit worse. Things are hard enough for a werewolf right now, but what about ten years from now? Or twenty? Minerva, I want the twins to grow up in a world where they can tell their friends that they're werewolves and nobody'll care."

He stopped the stream of words with an effort. "So basically, what I'm trying to say is this: I'm going to be joining the Werewolf Lobby this coming fall. I don't know if I can make a difference or not, but I'm sure going to try. And…Minerva, I'm not going to be able to visit the boys anymore."

A lead weight seemed to have settled in her stomach. "Because you don't want any dirt digger-uppers to have any reason to take a closer look at the twins."

Remus nodded quietly. "I'm afraid so. I've already talked this over with Dumbledore, and he…well, he reluctantly agreed."

Minerva nodded slowly. "I see." Nothing else came to mind and an awkward silence fell, broken by James and Terry's nearby mutterings. Minerva stood suddenly. "Remus, do _you_ remember a promise I made a few months ago? About making sure you were there when I told the boys about their real families?"

He winced sharply. "Minerva, I'm sorry…" She cut him off.

"That's not what I meant. Albus found something recently…give me a moment and I'll get it."

A minute later, she returned with a small box and settled down on the sofa. "James, Terry, could you come here, please? Remus, you too."

Remus' eyes widened as he sat down and pulled James into his lap. "That's not…it can't be! How did it survive the house collapsing?"

Minerva settled Terry in her lap and pulled the lid off of the box. Inside, what seemed like a thousand photos vied for attention. James and Lily, a hundred baby Harrys, Remus and Peter and Black; and even a few of the Dursleys and baby Dudley. Minerva wasn't even certain where Albus had gotten those last few.

Terry crowed in excitement and held up a picture of Remus fast asleep and wearing a mustard mustache and a witch's dress robes. "That's you!"

Remus winced in pain. "I thought I destroyed that one! Hey, look, Minerva, here's one of you chewing out James and…Black," he finished lamely.

Minerva would've answered, but James distracted her. "Gran, he won't move!" He poked at a photo of a toddling Dudley.

The picture was hastily rescued by a snickering Remus. "That's because it's a muggle photograph, James. They don't move like ours do."

James and Terry looked at each other. "Why not?"

"Well, pictures move because of magic, and muggles don't know how to use magic."

Judging by the looks of the boys' faces, that last statement had only confused them more. "Why not?"

"Because…erm, well…I don't really know," he confessed. "It's just the way things are. We're wizards, and we use magic. Muggles can't. But they have other things to make up for it."

Minerva decided to rescue the conversation before it drifted too much farther away from where she'd wanted it to go. "Aren't you two even curious about who this little boy in the picture is?"

They stared at it for a long time before finally taking a guess. "James?"

Remus choked. Shaking her head, Minerva tapped her dark-haired grandson on the shoulder. "Close, but not quite. That's you, Terry!"

Her statement was met with utter disbelief. "Uh-uh! I gots black hair! That boy gots yellow!"

James leaned to one side and squinted, as if the change in posture would help him to see how the boy in the picture could be his brother.

"I know you do. But that's only because I put a spell on it. Do you want me to take it off so you can see how your hair really looks?"

There was a pause, then two cautious nods. Minerva flicked her wand and thought, '_Finite Incantatem!_' She was hard put not to join the boys in gasping at the results. Even Remus blinked. It was just so odd, seeing the boys like this.

James tugged at his suddenly-black hair and pulled a lock into his face so he could see it. Terry was doing the same thing with a handful of blonde hair. Minerva was shivered suddenly, for reasons she wasn't really sure of. Terry glanced into the box again and froze. "Gran! That man looks like James, now!"

Minerva was unable to speak through the knot in her throat. Remus looked over, then quickly jumped into the gap. "Yes, I know he does. This man here was also named James. He was your brother's daddy. And this man here was _your_ daddy. The woman he's got his arm around is your mommy."

The weird hair forgotten, the twins leaned forward to get a better look at the pictures Remus was pointing out. Terry cocked his head to one side. "He fat. Was'e big like Hagrid?"

For the second time that night, Remus looked as though he was stifling a laughing fit. "No, I don't think he was big like Hagrid. He was a big man, though."

"Oh," was the disappointed reply. In Remus' lap, James squirmed slightly.

"Remus, she in my dreams." James' voice was uneasy, but considering the nightmares he still sometimes had, Minerva couldn't blame him. She leaned sideways to get a better look at the photograph of Petunia Dursley, them reached out and placed a comforting hand on James' shoulder. He never looked up from the picture. "She told bad men go 'way. But they didn't."

"I know. But you're safe now, and the bad men won't find you here. That's why I made your hair a different color, so they wouldn't find you."

Terry looked up suddenly, the light of discovery in his eyes. "An' then you came an' took us away!"

"Yes," she almost whispered. "Yes, I did. And ever after that, we've been living here."

James looked up. "Are we living happy ever after?"

"I hope so. I really hope so."


	25. A Pox Upon Thee!

Minerva uneasily watched the boys as they picked listlessly at their breakfast. Both looked exhausted and slightly pale, in short, they looked like most werewolves did after a full moon. The only problem was: during the three days before and after their transformations, the twins were fed so many Pepperup Potions and Invigoration Draughts that neither had ever appeared anything but healthy, if a little hyper. While they'd had their last potion the night before, they'd never had such a dramatic letdown before. She really hoped they weren't developing a resistance to the potions.

James slowly stirred the carrot soup that he'd insisted on being served. Minerva firmly took the spoon out of his hand and made him take a mouthful before turning to Terry, who was done staring his toast and had just pushed it away. There was a sudden gagging noise to her right, and Minerva whipped around just in time to see James hurl into his bowl. Filius, who was sitting on James' other side, shoved his chair back hurriedly. Further down the table, Abbey Vector clapped a hand to her mouth and Snape stared coldly for a moment before rising and striding from the Great Hall.

Minerva quickly did several cleaning charms and cast a general _Scourgify_ on James' bowl and the surrounding tabletop. James moaned and buried his face in her robes. Minerva put a comforting arm around him and had to bite back an exclamation at how hot he was. Moments later, the three were on their way to the Hospital Wing.

* * *

"Chickenpox," Poppy announced in what she seemed to think was a reassuring manner. Considering that she had no idea what Chickenpox might be, Minerva felt her anxiety level rise another notch. 

"How did they get it? _What _is it? How serious? How long is it going to last?"

Poppy just looked amused. "Relax, it's not very serious at all. As a matter of fact, I'm surprised James had a nausea reaction, I've never seen that before. Um, let's see. Chickenpox." She took a deep breath before continuing.

"First off, despite the name, they're not going to sprout feathers. It's a rather common muggle virus, and it only lasts a week or so normally."

Minerva nodded as she absorbed the information. "And what about curing it?"

Poppy sighed as she started digging some small potion bottles out of a nearby cabinet. "I'm afraid Chickenpox is one of those diseases that managed to develop a resistance to the only potion known to have any effect against it. The most I can do is to treat the symptoms and try to keep anyone else from coming down with it. Now, you're going to need to spread this Numbing Salve over the entire skin surface at the first sign of the rash, which should appear first on the abdomen or back and face. The salve will help a great deal, but the boys are going to want to scratch anyway, so it's critical that you reapply this," holding up yet another bottle, "Repelling Lotion every six hours. The fever is just their bodies fighting off the virus, so I'm going to leave that alone."

Eyeing the bottles before her, Minerva looked up in dawning shock. "You said an entire _week_ of this?"

Poppy nodded. "I'm afraid so." She started to turn away, then thought of something and swung back. "Oh, and fair warning. The odds are _very_ good that the twins managed to give it to someone else, so it's likely that you're going to be seeing several more cases in Gryffindor in a couple weeks."

Minerva dropped heavily into a chair. "Do you happen to know where they got it from?

"I'm afraid so. A Hufflepuff second-year came down with a case of it just over two weeks after he returned from Christmas break. Somewhere along the line, he must have infected James and Terry. And probably quite a few other kids." She sighed. "The next few days are _not_ going to be fun."

* * *

"Daddy, don't sit on Danger!" Hermione shrieked. Alex Granger barely recovered himself in time to keep himself from dropping into the armchair. He looked behind him to see…nothing. Hermione swept over and took an unseen hand. 

"It's okay, Danger, Daddy didn't mean it. Com'on, let's play in my room." The bushy-haired little girl led her invisible companion out of the living room.

Bemused, Alex sat down and looked up at his wife. "Danger?"

Helen chuckled. "Don't look at me! Her name's actually Gertrude, but she got her nickname because she gets into all these dangerous situations. Since Hermione introduced me to Danger, the two of them have defeated three dragons and tricked a wizard into letting them out of the dungeon he was holding them prisoner in. Oh, yes, and befriended a unicorn. Apparently, he lets them ride him when they need to go somewhere really fast. They rescued the unicorn from the wizard...no, wait, it was one of the dragons, that's right. Danger can make herself invulnerable to fire and they got past it that way."

Alex shook his head in bafflement. "What an imagination! I swear, that girl's going to grow up to be a writer." He thought about it for a moment, then looked up at Helen again. "Out of curiosity, what does Danger look like?"

"You know, I'm not really sure. I know that she's Hermione's older sister, but that's about it."

"I see." There was a small pause as Alex frowned. "Should we be worrying about this? Is she feeling so left out that she has to resort to imaginary playmates?"

Helen shook her head. "I'm not concerned about it. Most children go through a stage like this, actually, and they all seem to grow up just fine," she said cheerfully. "It's a good thing nobody can sue children for copyright violations, though."

Alex was peering up the stairs after their daughter and at first didn't register what Helen had said. "Well, still…wait, what do you mean, copyright violations?"

"Well, you know how youngsters can get. Hermione'll read something she really likes in one of her books and then she'll have to re-enact it with herself in the starring role. This is just the latest incarnation."

"If you say so." Alex shook his head in bemusement and decided to change the subject. "By the way, has the electrician been by yet?"

"As a matter of fact, he stopped in this afternoon. You're going to love this; he can't figure out what happened either." She frowned uneasily. Having every light in the house go on suddenly at three in the morning and refuse to turn off again had been just a little unnerving. Still, if it had to happen, at least it had been right after Hermione'd woken up from that bad dream and didn't want to be in the dark. She wrestled her thoughts back to what the electrician had said. "Anyway, he says the house's wiring is up to code and he can't find anything wrong, so we don't need to worry about it burning down over our heads. It was probably just a freak power surge."

Alex let his breath out. "I hope so." There was a pause, broken finally by, "So, guess who _finally_ decided that having that cavity filled might be a good idea?"

"Not Mrs. Cavendish? Finally? It's been what, two months?"

"Just about. God, you should have seen her mouth. She's going to have dentures by the time she's fifty. But she still refuses to…"

And the conversation turned to more normal topics the rest of the evening.

* * *

Percy stared at the shadowed ceiling and tried to ignore the sound of the twins splashing in the bathtub upstairs. It wasn't fair. Bad enough they acted like idiots and everybody thought they were funny, but now they weren't even getting _punished_! The tickle on his chest and arms that had been a nightmare itch only an hour before refused to go away, no matter how many salves Mum had smeared over his skin. And then she'd actually thought _he'd_ gone and spilled the bubotuber powder on himself and didn't want to admit it. At least she hadn't punished him, saying that the rash had been punishment enough. 

Percy rolled onto his side and did his best to keep the tears locked away inside. It just wasn't _fair!_ A drop of water slipped onto his pillow. Why hadn't she believed him? He wanted to hit the twins and keep hitting them. How _dare_ they! He sat up and hugged his knees to his chest, thinking dark thoughts about the bubotuber powder in the laundry room. Rover had been watching uncertainly, but he seemed to take the movement as a cue and scrambled to his feet, ears pricked hopefully. It was almost as if the dog could read his mind and was egging him on. Decision suddenly made, Percy clambered out of bed.

Sneaking through his own home was a weird experience. Actually, it was kind of _fun_. He was starting to see why the twins enjoyed this sort of thing so much. He eased the laundry room door open and glided inside, followed closely by Rover, who almost looked as though he understood what was going on and approved. Percy looked carefully around the small room, taking an inventory of what all was there and how it might fit into his fledgling plan.

* * *

Rover fidgeted. Was Percy getting cold feet now that he was faced with the idea of actually going through something like this? Merlin knew, it _was_ the first time the boy had ever tried pranking somebody. He glanced over his shoulder and whined softly. The redhead grinned demonically, his expression contrasting oddly with the prim horn-rimmed glasses. "Easy, boy. Just keep watching for Mum. I've got it all figured out." Suiting actions to words, Percy began moving around the room and collecting items. 

Over the next few minutes, Rover had a hard time keeping his jaw from dropping. Pranking with James and Remus and the Rat had never been like this. They'd almost always acted on the spur of the moment, never really thinking more than a step further along, and it had gotten them caught quite a few times. Percy seemed to have plotted _everything_ out. James might have thought of wearing the gloves to collect the bubotuber powder, but he almost certainly would not have conceived of pouring some into an empty cocoa container instead of just stealing the original bucket.

Neither would James have taken the time and trouble to carefully sprinkle a thin layer of the powder over the twin's pajama sleeves (and a splash at the ankles of their pajama bottoms, as if they'd accidentally let some drop). In short, Percy was doing a magnificent job of framing Fred and George for the prank they'd pulled on him earlier. And to cap it off, Percy deposited the cocoa container under Fred's bed, as if the twins had tried to hide it there. All Rover could do was keep a wary eye out for Molly and watch Percy in awe. The prankster that boy would make!

Both boy and dog wore huge smiles when they curled up in Percy's room and dropped off to sleep.

* * *

The day, which had looked so promising the night before, started off badly. George woke a little after midnight. There was an eternal moment that he spent trying to figure out what had gotten him up, then the itching set in. Judging by Fred's antics a couple of seconds later, he was having the same problem. It was as if…but it couldn't be! They hadn't even been wearing these pajamas when they'd pranked Percy! He scratched frantically at his arms and legs and tried desperately to think of something to ease the itching. 

Mum. Erm, no. She'd know instantly what had caused the welts. There were the salves downstairs, but she had them in the medicine cabinet under locking spell and key. Other than that…there just wasn't anything.

The twins endured the itching until around four, when they threw in the towel and woke their mother. Even putting up with the prolonged (and very loud) lecture was worth the relief.

There was an odd look on Percy's face the next morning at breakfast. It was almost as though he was smirking at them. And he didn't seem to mind his own rash _near_ so much anymore. George stared in dawning horror at his older brother, who was now humming cheerfully and slipping pieces of bacon to Rover. No…_way_…

* * *

"Gran, 'm thirsty. An' my tummy itches," called a feeble voice from James and Terry's bedroom. Minerva groaned and punched tiredly at her pillow in the faint hope that she'd been hearing things. "Gran?" Apparently not. She groaned once more and drug herself out of bed for the third time that night. 

Filling up James' mug took two tries, as she managed to miss the cup the first time and the stream of water hit the floor. As she knelt to vanish the rapidly spreading liquid, she couldn't help but wonder how muggle mothers managed this sort of thing without the aid of magic. Of course, they did tend to be quite a few years younger…why on earth had she thought raising children would be a good idea at her age?

"Gran," Terry whimpered, "I wet the bed."

Minerva took a deep breath and unclenched her teeth before answering. "It's all right, Terry, I know you didn't mean to. Let's just get you up and change the sheets. And then we can all go to sleep and stay that way," the last more to herself than the boys. After all, it wasn't their fault that they'd come down with a particularly nasty strain of the virus. "Yes, James, I'll get the salve in a minute. This needs to be done first."

"Gran, it _itches_," he whined. "An' it won't stop, an' I hate being sick, an' the nasty salve _stinks_, an'…"

"ENOUGH!" she bellowed. And instantly regretted it as the boys cowered. "Oh God, I'm sorry, you two; I'm just really tired. I didn't mean to yell." She pulled both of them into her arms. "Come here, I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

* * *

"Gran?" an uncertain voice called from the sitting room where Neville was lying on the sofa wrapped in a feather blanket. 

"Yes, dear?" Augusta called from her study, where she was penning an indignant letter to the local Quidditch coach concerning his new policy of closed practice sessions.

_"_Gran, I've got some funny red bumps on my arm. And they _itch_…"

* * *

To give credit where it belongs, Gertrude 'Danger' Granger is the creation of Whydoyouneedtoknow. Happy New Year to all! 


	26. Vectors

Albus Dumbledore sat quietly by the frail figure of the house elf and wondered what defeat might feel like, that vindication felt so hollow. The old elf was shivering and seemed half-lost in the memory she had just relived after so long.

"Then Hokey was not poisoning Mistress Hepzibah?" she whispered, her eyes suddenly fixed upon Albus' face.

"No," he told her gently. "No, you didn't."

She looked down at the floor. "It was bad boy, come to visit Mistress. Hokey should have known. Hokey should have…" She was overcome at that point and collapsed into silent sobs. All Albus could do was rest his hand on her shoulder.

"You couldn't have known, Hokey. Hepzibah was not the first Riddle fooled, and she was far from the last. Unfortunately."

Tears glistened in the ancient house elf's eyes as she looked up. "Albus Dumbledore will be taking bad boy to justice? Bad boy will not be killing anyone else's Mistress?"

"That's what I am attempting to do."

It seemed to be enough. Hokey got to her feet and tottered almost cheerfully to the closet, where she curled up in a bundle of worn rags. "Good. Everybody will be knowing that Hokey wasn't poisoning Mistress Hepzibah. It was bad boy. Hokey is tired now. Hokey needs to sleep. Goodnight, Albus Dumbledore. Hokey is glad you is coming to see her. Hokey thinks that Mistress Hepzibah would be being glad too." Her eyelids drooped ever so slowly.

"Goodnight, Hokey," Albus said softly. "May your dreams be of better days." A slight upward twitch of her lips was the only sign that she had heard him. There was nothing more to do but leave.

The sharp-faced woman of the house glanced at him as he descended the stairs. "Well, did you find out what you wanted?" She went on without giving him time to answer. "I swear, it'll be a relief when she finally dies. At least then I won't be glancing at my cup of tea and wondering. Chanty does a wonderful job in the kitchen, but Hokey keeps trying to sneak in. Always wants to look at the sugar container. I don't even know why I keep her."

"You need not worry, Mrs. Smith. Hokey was never the one at fault. She was merely the scapegoat."

The woman merely laughed and threw up her arms. "And I suppose the entire Board of Enquiries at the Ministry was wrong?" She lowered her voice into more sympathetic tones. "I know she doesn't want to believe it, but the poor thing was old then and she's positively ancient now. I don't know how she's kept on going this long."

"A wish to see justice done, perhaps? Even if she didn't consciously realize it?"

Mrs. Smith stared at him for a moment, then turned away. "Perhaps. Who knows what goes through the minds of those things. Was there anything else, professor?"

He shook his head, feeling the weight of the memory in his pocket. "No, there was nothing. I bid you good day, Mrs. Smith."

It came as no surprise to him a day later when he heard that Hokey had died in her sleep.

* * *

Argus poked at his scrambled eggs and glanced sideways at the trio sitting further up the table. James and Terry looked much as they had the previous few days. McGonagall appeared dead on her feet, and she was nodding off over her untouched toast and kippers. He looked back at his own breakfast and tried not to watch the boys too obviously. 

The last several days had been a nightmare. More than half of the student population had come down with the virus and were either staggering about the castle to get to their classes or lying in bed all day and complaining. Not content to leave it there, the little brats had managed to infect several of their professors, leading Professor Dumbledore to cancel class for a few days. The only good thing about the plague was that there were less students to track in dirt and grime and to plaster horrible potions all over the ceilings. The only student subgroup that seemed relatively immune were the muggleborns, most of whom had had their bout with the disease long before.

McGonagall seemed to think that she and her boys had had enough of breakfast and got shakily to her feet. Argus watched them walk slowly out the door and started a countdown in his head. The numbers reached zero and he stood and gave the students one final warning look. Then he slipped out the side door.

Taking shortcuts through the school was something he did almost without thinking, but this time it almost messed him up. The three he was pursuing proved to have been walking rather slower than he'd anticipated, and when he popped out from behind the tapestry of Gringott the Rich he heard Terry's quavering voice from back down the hall. Argus took a second to catch his breath, then turned and ambled over.

* * *

Minerva didn't hear Filch's voice at first; she was too busy focusing on getting herself and the boys up the staircase, a task made more difficult by her painfully stiff neck and the headache it seemed to be causing. It wasn't until she suddenly realized that someone was standing in front of her that she snapped out of the near-doze she'd been in. "Mr. Filch. Is something wrong?" Hadn't he just been in the Great Hall? Or had that been yesterday? 

"Yes and no, professor." He seemed a little ill at ease for some reason and kept glancing at the twins.

It took her a second to realize that she was supposed to answer. "Oh, right…erm…what was the question again?"

Filch shook his head in dark amusement. "Professor, I was wondering if you wanted a babysitter for the rest of the day so you could catch up on your sleep."

Sleep. Yes, sleep. That sounded wonderful. But… "I couldn't foist the twins off on you, not now."

"Professor, pardon my language, but you look like hell and I don't think you've gotten a full night's since the boys came down with this. This wouldn't be the first time I've watched after a sick child, so don't you worry about that. Besides, I've had chickenpox, so there's no way they can infect me."

Almost five minutes later, he finally managed to convince her, a task made harder by the difficulty Minerva was having in focusing long enough to form an intelligible sentence. But in the end, Mr. Filch was leading/carrying the boys off to his office. Even the six hours she'd have until he brought them back would help a great deal. She frowned suddenly. She _had_ told him that the twins would need their salves reapplied in a few hours, hadn't she?

Minerva frowned and shook her head, stopping almost instantly because of the way it hurt her neck. Sleep. She needed sleep. She was unconscious almost the instant she dropped into her bed.

* * *

The day ticked by easily enough. Mrs. Norris alternated between wandering the corridors and curling up with the twins. Argus almost had to laugh as he watched his gray beauty purring at the top of her lungs and gently grooming the boys as she would have her kittens. Lunch was brought up by the house elves and eaten in his office, to the renewing interest of the boys. 

During the early afternoon, the twin's rash intensified, and they were overcome with the urge to scratch. While Argus was sure that the boys had some potions up in their rooms, he was also certain that he didn't want to rouse McGonagall before she'd finished catching up on her sleep. Besides, the Numbing Salve he kept for his lumbago ought to do just fine. Along with a few drops of firewhiskey in their butterbeer, of course.

After slipping both boys' robes off, he knelt down in front in James, Numbing Salve in hand…and froze. The livid scar on the boy's shoulder was all too clear. That did explain why James didn't use his right arm much. Argus' first thought was of Hagrid, but he reluctantly discarded the theory almost immediately. McGonagall would never let the boys go down to Hagrid's hut unsupervised if James had ever gotten bitten that badly by any of Hagrid's 'pets'. Besides, Madam Pomphrey should have been able to heal something like this in a second. Which only left one option. Werewolves. Or a werewolf.

Argus glanced over at Terry and quickly spotted the matching scar on his side. His attention was quickly brought back to James, who was starting to shiver. "You scared of us?" the boy asked softly.

Argus opened his mouth to answer, then had to stop. _Was_ he? He knew very well what a werewolf was and what one could do, but this was _James _and _Terry_, for Merlin's sake. He tried to buy some time. "So where do you two go when you change?"

Terry shifted uncomfortably and scratched at his arm. "For bed?"

What? Oh, of course. "No, no. I meant when the moon rises and you…um, turn into…you know…animals." It was easier not to say the word 'werewolf'.

"Oh." Terry fidgeted as Argus gently restrained the hand he was using to scratch. "We go to the Shack. An' then Gran turns into a cat and p'ays with us."

Without really realizing it, Argus started to smear the salve over James' torso, the boy sighing in relief. Terry's words brought up odd images of McGonagall pouncing on the boys and wild games of tag through…stone corridors, maybe? Neither of them could have the snapping jaws and bloody fangs he had seen once before. Not them. They had to be something different. He relaxed suddenly and almost laughed at how silly he had been. This was _James _and _Terry_! Why was he getting so worked up over this? He'd known these boys since they were little. It wasn't any worse than knowing that one of his ancestors had been a werewolf!

He chucked James' chin gently before pulling the boy's robes back over his head. "Now why would I be scared of you, little wolf?" He gave the boy a sideways glance. "You're not planning on chasing Mrs. Norris up a tree, are you?"

Both boys looked shocked and instantly protested that they'd _never _hurt Mrs. Norris. Argus just laughed and started coating Terry's skin with the numbing agent.

* * *

Life had been so disrupted in the last several days, that Argus didn't realize how badly he'd lost track of time until a resolute-faced Hufflepuff fourth-year showed up at his office to serve an eight o'clock detention. The boy spotted the dozing twins on their cushions and his jaw dropped. He remembered Argus' presence a second later and quickly tried to recompose himself. "Erm…I'm supposed to…Professor Sprout said…" He couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of the twins. Argus stood slowly, which had the desired effect of re-intimidating the boy. 

"Oh, I remember you. Dirtied up a freshly cleaned stretch of hall. Two…hours…work," he snarled. "Completely wasted! Not that any of you ungrateful brats care. Wouldn't be so hair-brained if you were the ones down on your hands and knees scrubbing!"

The boy actually cringed. "I'm sorry. I didn't…"

"You didn't think! " Argus snapped. The twins awoke with a start and stared about wildly. Great. Now what? He glared at the boy as an idea came to him. "You'll be in charge of polishing the armor on the second floor tonight. But first, let's see how strong your back is."

* * *

Halfway up the third flight of stairs, the Hufflepuff looked as though he wanted to collapse. Argus had to admit, though, the boy had done a very impressive job, managing to alternately piggyback the twins that far. Not that he'd admit it… 

"Drop him and you'll be in detention tomorrow night as well," Argus snarled as he led Terry upwards. The Hufflepuff glanced sideways at Argus, then stared resolutely at the top of the stairs and visibly forced himself to keep climbing. Sweat beads covered his forehead, despite the chill of the air.

They made it to the top of the staircase and the fourth-year paused for a few seconds to pant before staggering on. Argus studied the next flight, which was rapidly approaching, and finally decided that the boy would never make it to the seventh floor, no matter that the next staircase somehow managed to bypass the fourth floor and go straight on to the fifth without gaining any extra length. "Don't be ridiculous! I won't have you slipping and dropping Professor McGonagall's boy!"

He gently shook James' shoulder. "Come on, sleepyhead, time to wake up." He carefully lifted the boy to the floor, then had to support him as James tried to lie down and curl up. "None of that, now, we're almost there. Come on, we don't need your grandmother getting worried about why you're late getting back."

Both boys were so sleepy that neither complained as they hiked on. Argus almost wished they would. At least that would keep him from wondering why McGonagall hadn't come to pick up the boys some time ago. This just wasn't like her.

At long last, they got to McGonagall's quarters and the Hufflepuff dropped to the floor to pant. Ignoring the boy, Argus tentatively tapped on the door. No answer, and none to the next few knocks, which slowly progressed to something near pounding. He was starting to get rather worried.

Terry slipped up beside him and touched his hand to the doorknob. He paused for a second and narrowed his eyes, then turned the knob and pulled the door open. Everything was dark inside, and deathly silent. Argus had no memory of ever going into McGonagall's room, but suddenly, he was beside her fireplace and throwing a handful of Floo powder into the newborn flames. "Madam Pomfrey! Emergency, Professor McGonagall's quarters!"

The twins huddled by the doorway, their faces averted from the flames. Argus gathered them into his arms and held them tight while Madam Pomfrey ducked out of the fireplace and hurried into her colleague's bedroom.


	27. Now What?

The unfamiliar room was dark, without even the light of a candle. James itched, but he didn't really care anymore. He just wished Gran was there. Then everything would've been all right and he wouldn't be so scared.

"You might as well go to sleep. The morning's not going to come any faster if you lie awake and worry." Argus' voice drifted gently from the shadows where James knew the old man was sprawled in an armchair, since the twins had the bed. Beside him, James felt Terry twitch, but his brother didn't say anything. The silence pressed in on him until he had to break it or smother.

"Is she gonna die?" Nobody had told him or Terry anything. All he knew was that Poppy had put Gran on a stretcher and sent her off to St. Mungo's. And he knew from what Holly had said about her grandfather that people went to St. Mungo's to die.

There was a creaking noise from the direction of the armchair, then the bedsprings compressed as Argus sat down on the side of the bed. "I really don't know. I hope not."

He could feel Terry lying too still and tense to be asleep. Probably afraid of moving and missing Argus saying that it was going to be all right after all and Gran was coming back in the morning. Except that Argus wasn't saying it when he was supposed to be. And that other question, the one James wasn't really sure he wanted to know. "Why do people have to die? Why can't they just stay around? Then nobody would have to be sad."

There was a soft sigh. "That's just the way things are, I'm afraid. It's a part of life, as much as being born or loving someone or having little brats around underfoot is."

James thought about that for a minute, but it didn't feel right somehow. If you were dead, you weren't alive. So how could it be a part of life? He thought of heat and a blue glow and tried to moisten parched lips with a dry tongue. "I don't want to die."

"Nobody does. But sooner or later, it has to happen. It…"

"_Why?_" Terry burst out desperately. He sounded as though he was starting to cry.

"Hey, hey, easy now." Calloused hands felt around for the boys' shoulders. There was another pause. Then, "I don't know the answers, I'm afraid. Honestly, I don't think anyone really does. But you shouldn't be afraid of it."

"Why not?" Terry's quavering voice asked.

"Because," Argus' voice was slow, as if his mind was having to tease the answers out before he could say the words, "because if you keep dwelling on death and being afraid all the time, you…you forget to…live…" His voice trailed off. James could almost see Argus staring into space. Then the bed trembled as the old man gave himself a shake. "Anyway," he said briskly, "no one's going to be dying tonight, so we might as well get some sleep before we all wake up tired and cranky."

James seized on Argus' words. "You promise? She's gonna be all right?"

There was the longest pause yet, while James held his breath. Finally, "I promise."

Parts of his body he hadn't realized had been tense relaxed, and James was asleep almost immediately, followed by his brother. He never knew that Mrs. Norris stared at Argus for some time afterward, before she jumped off of the bed and went out into the living room. Nor did he know that Argus never did get further than a light doze the rest of the night because he was afraid the fireplace was going to flare up and tell him that he'd broken his word to the boys.

* * *

The morning was quiet to the point where Argus got the weird feeling that if he dropped something, the thickened air around him would shatter and the whole of the castle would slowly collapse in on itself. He dipped his scrub-brush into the pail of soapy water as he dispiritedly eyed the potions classroom, which had a hard layer of something that looked like a cross between wax and cotton over most of the floor. Someone nervously cleared their throat behind him and Argus sailed into the air before spinning around to confront whoever it was. The fourth-year Hufflepuff who'd gotten out of his detention the night before took a hasty step back as he watched the end of the brush, which looked to have narrowly missed his face. 

"Erm," the boy almost squeaked while quite obviously suppressing the urge to make a run for it, "I, um, didn't do my detention yesterday, and I thought, well, you might want a, um, hand here."

Argus briefly noticed the number of erm's and um's the boy had put in his sentence and wondered absently how close he was to the record. Then the meaning of the words sunk in. He stared. "You…_want_…to clean."

The Hufflepuff hesitated, then glanced sideways at the twins who were watching with a great deal of interest. Whatever he saw seemed to decide him and he met Argus' gaze with barely a flicker. "Yes, sir. I do."

* * *

Jeremy had scrubbed floors under Mr. Filch's watchful eye before, but never quite like this. He wondered briefly what Kristin or Saleem would say if they ever heard that he'd _volunteered_ for a detention. One thing, it was certainly educational. Who knew that the cantankerous caretaker even _had_ a soft side? _He _certainly hadn't had any idea, not until the previous night. It had sounded then almost as if Mr. Filch actually _cared _about someone. 

Jeremy shook his head inwardly. Whatever it was, it seemed that he hadn't just dreamed the whole thing, like he'd half-thought when he'd woken up that morning. That knowledge was _worth _all the scrubbing. It was rather odd, listening to the old man's voice change from gruff to gentle depending on who he was talking to. Mrs. Norris was acting differently, too. Her gaze, when she looked at him, had none of its usual accusing glare. Instead, she looked almost…approving.

While the older two scrubbed at the potion covering the floor, the Evans twins were dusting the place. They didn't seem to mind, and like Jeremy himself was, they were volunteers. They seemed to consider it the price of the story they were listening to, a tale of giants and goblins and a young woman who turned out midstory to be a werewolf, but one on the side of the good guys! Jeremy wasn't going to admit it to anyone, but he was listening as avidly as the twins. Another unexpected facet of the old caretaker, he was an incredible tale-weaver.

The next two hours went by so quickly that it was rather a shock to look around and see a clean floor. Mr. Filch walked carefully around the room looking for any spots that might have gotten missed and seemed rather pleased to see Jeremy doing the same thing. "Didn't do too bad a job, I suppose," Filch allowed finally.

A thrill of pride ran through him, and Jeremy straightened up, feeling the muscles in his back complaining. _Nobody_ got complimented by Filch! That was probably a school record, right there. "Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure."

Filch snorted, but sounded more as if he didn't want Jeremy to know that the words might possibly have affected him. "Off with you, you young scamp! Your housemates are probably wondering where you've gotten off to."

Grinning slightly, Jeremy moved as quickly as seized muscles would allow him towards the door. About to pop through it, a thought struck him. "Sir, Mr. Filch? Um, don't worry. I won't tell anyone." He turned and fled.

* * *

Answering the firm tap on the door to his rooms, Argus was rather surprised to see the panting figure of Madam Pomfrey, who gave the distinct impression of having just competed in a sprinting race. A sudden anxiety gripped him and he blocked her from coming in. The twins were in the back room reading to each other, and if she bore the news he feared she did, he didn't want them overhearing. "Has there been word from St. Mungo's?" 

She blinked. "What…oh! No, I'm afraid not. The last I heard, she was still in a coma and wasn't responding to any of the treatments."

Argus felt himself slump. "I see."

Madam Pomfrey gave him an odd look. "The good news, what little there is of it, is that she isn't getting any _worse_ either. The Healers seem to think that if you'd found her much later, she'd have died that night."

He flinched. "Do they happen to have any idea of what happened?"

"I didn't tell you?" Her jaw dropped open, and a wave of anger swept through him.

"No. No one has told me or the boys anything whatsoever." He was aware that his voice was rising and didn't bother containing it. Then…

"Poppy?" a small voice asked from behind him. Argus hesitated, then stood aside to allow Madam Pomfrey inside. She instantly moved to the twin's side and pulled them into a firm hug. Oddly enough, she was looking somewhat relieved.

"You haven't gotten them ready for bed yet?"

He scowled, not quite ready to give up his annoyance. "We were about to get to that, actually. And you still haven't said what was wrong with Professor McGonagall."

"Argus! In front of the twins? They're only four!"

"And when will they be 'old enough'?" he raged, putting scorn on the last words. "They're old enough to understand that she's in danger of dying, damn it! I think we'd all like to know what it is she's fighting! This not knowing is one of the worst tortures there is!"

She opened her mouth to snap back, then stopped and took a deliberately deep breath. Even then, her eyes blazed and her words were clipped short. "Encephalitis. It's an inflammation of the brain caused by any of several viruses, chickenpox being one. Unfortunately, this variety of encephalitis is nearly impossible to treat owing to the parent virus' resistance to Healing Potions and Charms. The current treatment is supporting her body so that it has a chance of fighting the disease off on its own."

She glanced down at the boys and modulated her voice to somewhat more comforting tones. "James, Terry. The Healers are doing everything they can. Rest assured, they're not going to let her go without a fight. And hey, she's a stubborn woman. If anyone could pull through this, it'll be her."

There was a silence, then James reluctantly nodded his head. "Can we go see her?"

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, then gave them a quick hug. "We'll see. I'll talk to the Healers first thing tomorrow morning." She stood and turned to face Argus once more. "In any case, I owe you an apology. I didn't intend to abandon you with the boys last night, much less all day today.

Argus tried to answer, but she quickly cut him off. "I am truly sorry. I'll talk to you later about making it up to you. Anyway, I'll just collect the boys and take them off to bed." She hesitated and cast a nervous glance over at the twins. "They haven't had their baths yet, have they?"

The light dawned. No wonder she was acting so nervous. "If you're worried about me seeing their scars, it's a little late." She froze in horror and he snorted impatiently. "Relax, will you? I've got a werewolf or two in my own ancestry; I'm not going to start making a fuss over this pair of rapscallions. Besides, you're starting to scare them."

It was true enough. Madam Pomfrey might well be a fine school nurse with a liking for children, but he doubted that she'd ever had any of her own. Particularly after that comment she'd made about foisting the twins off on him. Good God! Talk about 'in front of the children'! Now he was going to be spending the entire night reassuring them that he'd didn't mind them being around at all.

The argument went on for a while after that, but Argus finally retained custody of the twins, and the nurse retreated off to her lair in the hospital wing. Shaking his head in annoyance, he looked down at James and Terry. "Well, what do you two want to do until bedtime? Read? Play a board game? Pull strings around for Mrs. Norris?"

Not even the promise of one of their favorite diversions distracted them. "Are we a nuisance?"

Argus gritted his teeth and sent several nasty thoughts flying in the direction Madam Pomfrey had gone. The worst of it was, he knew in the back of his mind that she was right about one thing at least. Watching the boys for a night or two was fine, but he just wasn't set up for any kind of long-term arrangements. Damn it, he was too old for this.

* * *

Breakfast on day four was a subdued affair. Terry had woken up screaming McGonagall's name the night before and had gone and set his brother off. Neither boy had been able to get back to sleep, with the result that both of them were looking more peaky than they ever had even before a full moon. Not even Mrs. Norris' loud purrs had set them at ease. Argus himself felt wiped out and was having difficulties keeping from nodding off over his breakfast. 

Professor Sprout had already volunteered to watch the boys for him for a few hours after breakfast, as she didn't have any classes that morning. Hagrid had chimed in about then, but Argus had quickly cut the great oaf off. Maybe he hadn't been responsible for the werewolf bites the twins sported, but Hagrid certainly had enough _other_ animals willing to add to the collection of scars.

Madam Pomfrey suddenly burst into the Great Hall and nearly sprinted towards the teacher's table, her face filled with some emotion he was afraid to identify. Argus half-stood, and his heart stopped. Let Minerva not have died, let Minerva not have died…

"She's going to be all right! Healer Cloby just called, and he said Minerva's going to pull through!" Argus just had time enough to collapse back into his chair before two small figures clutched him around the waist, sobbing with relief.


	28. The Invasion of St Mungo's

Well, the week of tests is finally over! Seems every single one of my professors thought that last week would be a good time to have the first test of the semester. Can anyone say ARGHHHHHH? Anyway, it's all over except for getting the results back.

Something I thought I'd mention, I've noticed several people have been leaving anonymous reviews. That's fine by me, and I enjoy hearing from you. However, the rules for this site say I can't answer your reveiws in-chapter without getting my story deleted, so if you want a reply, please leave me an e-mail address and I'll be more than happy to write back. See you all next chapter!

* * *

On February 14, 2:47 a.m., Minerva awoke from the deep sleep she'd been in for nearly a week. She was conscious for only a few minutes, but that was quite long enough for the Healer trainee on duty to take down the names and fireplaces of any friends or family who might not have been listed as an emergency contact. The trainee studied the names on the parchment, then decided that as the calls had waited this long, it wouldn't matter if they were delayed another few hours. She set the slip aside and devoted herself to reading the huge tome on anti-venoms she'd been studying.

At 7:01 a.m., as the very last thing before getting off duty for the night, the trainee made a firecall to a Camden MacFusty, West Wing, Dragon Hall. The man seemed more than a little shocked and upset that he hadn't known about Professor McGonagall's illness, and from the way he was acting, the trainee rather suspected that he was going to be one of those people trying to sneak in a few minutes before visiting hours started that afternoon. Her mistake was quite understandable, as she'd never dealt with a MacFusty before.

At exactly 7:28 a.m., the invasion reached St. Mungo's.

* * *

The Welcome Witch hadn't felt so frazzled since that time an entire primary school had eaten some biscuits that had turned out to be contaminated with a high-potency Energy Potion. A group of perhaps thirty people stood patiently in front of her desk while two of them took it in turns to argue in circles around her. For perhaps the eighteenth time, the Welcome Witch repeated, "I understand that. But her illness is no longer life-threatening, so I'm not authorized to allow an exception to the rules. Now would you _please _just come back at one o'clock when we have our designated visiting hours?" 

The older man in front of her replied with a calm that had to be forced. Or perhaps induced with a potion. "I had thought that the fact that Akira is a qualified and practicing Healer would count for something."

"Yes, but she's not one of the Healers assigned to Professor McGonagall's case, so I don't see how that changes anything…oh, thank you," she added as the black-haired woman who had finally shut up a minute ago handed back her clipboard. Wait a moment…her _what?_

"Excuse me, how did you get hold of…hold on! Where do you all think you're going?"

"Up to see Minerva, of course," the woman replied with an infuriating grin. "I believe that's the Dilys Derwent ward?"

The Welcome Witch started to storm out from behind her desk, then stopped, took a deep breath, and sat back down to deal with the next person. Let the _Healers_ straighten this out; she'd had enough!

* * *

Minerva awoke to the sound of arguing voices. The light in the room was far too bright, but she found that if she squinted it became more bearable. Several of the voices, and one in particular, sounded very familiar, but couldn't be. "Camden?" 

One of the voices broke off and she felt rather than saw someone move to her side. "Minerva? Sorry I woke you, how're you feeling?"

It _was _Camden. How? "Tired mostly. Somewhat achy. Where am I? Oh my God, _where are the boys_?"

Camden gently pushed her back down. "Hey, take it easy, you shouldn't be tiring yourself out. I'm sure the boys are fine."

"If you are referring to your grandsons, they are," said a man's stern voice she didn't recognize. Minerva squinted through the blinding light and was just able to make out green robes and a white badge. "Nurse Pomfrey brought them by for a visit yesterday."

Akira's deceptively gentle voice cut through several others. "From what I've been told, you were seriously ill, though no one's told me from what yet. We didn't find out until just now, and we came as quickly as we could."

The Healer rounded on Akira once more. "Well, you've been here, you've seen her, and now I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave and come back during the visiting hours posted in the lobby. I'll have to have a word with Wilma, she shouldn't have let you up in the first place."

Camden snorted. "Rubbish! We're here, we're kin, and we're not leaving until Minerva's healthy again. And don't come down too hard on that poor girl, Akira had to steal her clipboard to find out where you all were hiding Minerva."

Akira spoke up at that point. "Besides, I am one of Minerva's personal Healers and am quite qualified to stay. You can check the records, my name's Akira Bonni Hanley…sorry, it's MacFusty now." She drew in a breath that sounded suddenly shaky."

The argument went on and on, with Akira and several people from the crowd in the room steadfastly holding their ground. Somewhere along the line, Camden broke free, settled down beside Minerva, and gently took her hand.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Minerva said softly, though she was comforted by the presence of her family and rather wanted them to stay.

"Oh, we don't, eh?" He chuckled. "Would you _rather _we left you here alone?"

"Oh, no, no," Minerva hastened to assure him. "But I think the Healers are going to have a fit."

Both of them laughed. "Well, they're just going to have to adjust, aren't they? You getting tired again?"

"Just a little," Minerva said through a not-quite stifled yawn.

She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake."

As she drifted off, she was vaguely aware of the sudden lowering of the noise level that suggested he'd put a Silencing Charm around her bed.

* * *

Minerva drifted in and out of sleep the rest of the day, finally waking up enough to register that Akira wasn't there any longer. Just as she was about to enquire, Akira herself slipped in leading two very familiar boys and collapsed onto a chair someone conjured up. But Minerva was no longer paying attention to the black-haired woman at that point. 

"Gran!" shrieked two very loud voices, just before a pair of human Bludgers smacked into her bed and tried to scramble up. Camden had to interfere to keep them from overwhelming their still-weak grandmother. Neither of them was very happy about the restrictions, but after being told that it was either obey or be kicked out of the room (no need to mention that Camden was bluffing) they decided to calm down to merely excited/clingy.

Once things had quieted down a little, something that took a _very _long time to happen, Akira was happy to regale everyone with the grand and adventurous tale of how she'd whisked the boys away from Hogwarts.

"…and surprisingly, it wasn't Poppy or Professor Dumbledore who gave me the most trouble. It was this old man with a cat, I think his name was something like…what was it, Steal?"

"Filch," Minerva corrected automatically. "He didn't want you taking the boys? I know he was babysitting the day I," she glanced suddenly at the twins in question and decided to finish the sentence somewhat differently, "passed out, but I wasn't aware that he'd taken it that much to heart."

Akira shook her head. "Well, he seems to have. From what Poppy said, he'd been watching after them ever since the…" she raised her eyebrows at Minerva, "…passing out?" she finished with a definite note of amusement in her voice.

"Yeah," James put in happily. "An' Mrs. Norris sleeps on my feet an' sometimes she purrs. An' we got to have lots of detentions, and so did another boy! He likes stories too!"

It was all Minerva could do to keep from bursting out laughing at the twins' enthusiasm. Judging by the expressions on everyone else's face in the room, she wasn't the only one. "So you had fun doing your detentions?"

"Uh-huh," James said as he cuddled closer to Minerva.

A thought occurred to Terry suddenly and he looked up. "Gran, guess what? Argus isn' scared of us and he found our…" The boy was cut off suddenly by Camden, who clapped a hasty hand over Terry's mouth.

"Not here," Minerva hissed as Terry's eyes opened wide in shock. "Remember what I said? We don't talk about it unless I say it's all right to."

From across the room, the resident Healer looked up from his other patient with a frown. Seeing nothing amiss, aside from the number of people in the ward, he went back to whatever he'd been doing. Minerva let out a breath and tried to reassure the twins.

"It's all right, I'm not mad at you. It's just like when we have our addition practice and you forget a sum and I have to remind you. All right?"

The boys didn't seem to get the connection between her example and what had just happened, but they nodded anyway, Terry's ring-fingernail slipping into his mouth as he did so. Minerva sighed and decided not to call him on it, just this once.

* * *

Minerva had originally been scheduled to leave St. Mungo's about two weeks after waking up. She ended up leaving nine days early. Seemed the Healers just weren't able to adapt to the idea of having so many people constantly around their patient and finally agreed that maybe Akira was up to the task of taking over Minerva's recovering health. Of course, having no less than twenty people in the Dilys Derwent ward at any one time did make it a little hard for the Healers to move around, much less get anything done. Various members of Clan MacFusty were taking turns staying with Minerva, and James and Terry were there quite a bit now, too. 

Something that upset Minerva quite a bit was the news that she wouldn't be allowed to teach anymore that year. But, as Albus put it, "Your health is more important to me than getting rid of your substitute." His eyes twinkling merrily, he had then added, "Though I have to admit, you are by far the better teacher."

Flattery it might be, Minerva told herself, but it _was_ successful. "Well, if that's the way you want it. Just keep my chair warm for me come August." She _did _still feel rather weak, and Akira and Poppy both agreed that she'd probably be feeling that way for some time to come. Oh well, at least she got to take that winter vacation she'd always been dreaming of.

* * *

"Draco!" Molly crossed the schoolroom in two quick strides and pulled the pale boy to her chest in a bone-crushing hug. 

"I missed you," he mumbled as he returned the hug with almost as much force.

"So did I. Mrs. Hengistson said you'd been ill?"

Draco nodded slowly and stared down at the floor. "Father was upset at me 'cause I got him sick and the Healer wouldn't make him better."

"Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry. Ron and Ginny," and most of the rest of my brood, she added mentally, "were sick as well. And you know what? It had this really funny name I thought you might like. Chicken pox! Now isn't that a silly name?"

Draco giggled softly, but Molly got the definite impression that he'd heard the name before and he was just laughing because no one had pointed the funny part out to him before. "Uh-huh. And I got sick and it _itched_ and it wouldn't go away. And Father cursed the Healer," he added as an afterthought.

Molly stared at him in shock. "Your father…actually cursed…his Healer?"

"Yeah. 'Cause he wouldn't make Father or Mother or me better." His voice dropped and he somehow managed to lean in even closer. "Father was real mad, and I think his spots itched. He looked funny."

Lucius Malfoy with spots. Molly would have paid to see that. Not that she could tell the boy standing in front of her. "I'm sure he did. But we're going to have to make sure we don't tell him that." A somewhat evil thought occurred to her and she lowered her voice unconsciously. "Draco, when we draw our pictures today, do you want to draw one of your father with the spots? Not to take home," she said hastily, "just for here. And I'll hide it somewhere and when you want to see it, just let me know and I'll bring it out for you."

Draco thought about that for a minute, then his face lit up. "Yeah!"

* * *

Hermione lay nearly asleep on the sofa near the fireplace, dreamily watching the flames dance. From the nearby kitchen she could hear the voices of her parents as they shared a laugh about something she couldn't quite hear. Almost on the hearth, Danger curled up with her back to the fireplace. 

Full and content from the cocoa she'd finished a little while ago, Hermione could feel her eyelids drooping and the warm feeling, something like a really soft blanket, that meant she would soon be falling asleep. At night, when she could watch herself dozing off, was perhaps her favorite time of day. Soon she'd be wandering the dream realms with Danger, and maybe find that unicorn they'd been tracking that afternoon before Mommy'd come by with the vacuum and swept up its trail. A soft sigh escaped her.

There was a soft breaking sound from the fireplace, followed by something tapping against first metal, then stone. Hermione's eyes drifted half open again. A coal had somehow gotten past the metal guard in front of the fire and was now glowing a warm orange on the carpet in front of the hearth. She could see the white carpet beginning to char around the coal. She watched for a minute in sleepy interest and was about to doze off again when her father's remembered voice drifted into her mind. He'd been explaining to her why they needed the guard in front of the fire so that a coal couldn't accidentally burn the house down.

Hermione momentarily considered getting up and putting the coal back into the fire, but felt too relaxed to move. And why, when there was the perfect solution to Daddy's worries right there?

"Danger?" she asked softly. Danger knew what Hermione was talking about, the way she always did. She turned around and stretched out slightly so that her hand covered the coal. There was a pause, and Hermione felt an odd tension in her mind for a second, then Danger turned back around and curled up again. Hermione smiled faintly and followed Danger's example.

Within minutes, both girl and imaginary friend were asleep in the warm den. On the carpet a few inches away from the stone hearth, the coal burned itself out, somehow managing to do so without harming the carpet any further. But then, that was exactly what Hermione and Danger had told it to do.


	29. For the Boys

**A.N.** Warning, some bad language in this chapter.

* * *

Remus carefully adjusted the few remaining pictures on the battered mantelpiece and stood back to assess the view. Three feet to his left, the sofa cushions were covered by moving photographs of twins boys running…shouting…riding brooms…laughing. It tore him up inside to take them down, but better he feel horrible than he accidentally betray the last remnants of his family. At the very end of the sofa, one photo with a very different subject lay by itself. Remus turned from his contemplation of the mantle to eye this one. Four teenage boys waved merrily up at him from the broomsticks hovering over the Hogwarts lawn.

A careful look around the room ensured that the only things identifying James and Terry were on the sofa and that nothing remained that indicated Remus had ever known Sirius Black had so much as existed. Remus' gaze dropped back to the picture of the Marauders, watching one messy-haired boy in particular. "Don't worry, James. Nothing will happen to your son as long as I'm alive to stand between him and danger. And if I have to fight the whole damn world for the twins, then so be it."

Very deliberately, he held up four fingers. "Black became as his name." The index finger went down. "His betrayal was your death and Lily's." The middle finger dropped this time. "Peter wasn't strong enough to avenge you." The ring finger. Remus studied his hand carefully, as if it held the answers to all the questions he'd asked since a night three and a half years before. "And now…I remain."

* * *

"You're joking!" Minerva stared in shock across the table at the young Healer who was currently wearing a wry expression that seemed, oddly enough, ever so slightly stilted.

"I wish I was! I mean, naming your child after a minor character in a bloody _romance_ novel?" Akira snorted. "I suppose it could have been worse, but _still_! I do wish I could remember the moment they found out that the cute Japanese moniker Mum'd given me was actually a boy's name. Of course, if your cute little _daughter_ is already four by that point, it's a little late to do anything about it." The women dissolved back into laughter.

Finally recovering, Minerva recomposed herself and took another sip of her tea. "Well, to be perfectly fair, Akira _does_ sound rather like a girl's name."

Akira waved her hands helplessly. "Yes, but _still_! Ah well, I suppose I should be happy she didn't name me Bishamon!"

"Bishamon…Bishamon." Minerva opened her eyes from when she'd squeezed them shut to think better. "He's the Japanese ambassador's aide that Emily's dating, isn't he?"

There was no mistaking it this time; Akira's fingers clenched briefly. Minerva frowned inwardly and studied the Healer more carefully. Something was very wrong… Her eyes lit on Akira's left hand.

"When did you stop wearing your wed…"

Something about Akira's rigid posture stopped her. There was a pause, then, in a voice that sounded _too_ calm, "Samuel and I were divorced the day before Valentine's Day."

"I'm sorry," Minerva managed. Akira gave her a sharp look, then turned to look out the window.

"Yes, well, these things sometimes happen. I mean, we had a good marriage, I thought, we were comfortable with each other even if we didn't have that 'spark' everyone seems to talk about. We never argue…argued, everything was just fine." She paused to eye her teacup, then shrugged. "Until the day he decided he'd fallen in love with some chit barely in her majority."

"I do have to give him credit, once he'd realized where his feelings lay, he told me right off. Gave me the decision of whether I wanted 'us' to stay together or whether I wanted to divorce him. I do think that if I'd said 'no', he would've stayed with me, regardless of how he felt."

"But you gave him the divorce?" Minerva asked cautiously.

Akira somehow managed a light laugh that contrasted with her fingernails trying to cut deep grooves in the table. "Our marriage was over in any case. How can you keep on kissing someone at the door and sleeping next to them at night if you know that they're seeing someone else's face imposed over your own? He probably wouldn't have gone and had an affair on me, but she would've been in every dream he had." Seeing the expression on Minerva's face, Akira glared, the first genuine emotion she'd shown in the last few minutes.

"Oh, don't give me that look! We talked it over for hours that night and waited some days before actually doing anything. It just wasn't the same after that. It was almost a relief to sign the papers. They seem to be quite happy with each other. Crazy in love." She stared at the tabletop, her fingers curling into fists. "I can't get too upset with him, though. At least he had the honor to tell me. I'm happy they found the 'spark' that apparently wasn't in _our_ marriage."

There was a long pause, broken only by Akira's slightly ragged breathing. Minerva studied her friend carefully, noting the frozen face, the rigidity of her body. "She's a slag, and he's an ungrateful bastard who wouldn't recognize a good woman if she hexed him."

Akira's hands slammed down on the table and she half-rose. "How DARE he!" she almost screamed, her face suddenly twisted into a mask of rage. All thoughts of self-control seemed forgotten. "Just up and leave me for that…that…that BITCH! What's she got that I don't, anyway? I'M NOT THAT OLD; FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, I'M ONLY THIRTY! AND HE WANTS SOME SEVENTEEN YEAR-OLD SLUT! AND I'VE GOT ONLY HIS WORD HE DIDN'T SLEEP WITH HER THE DAY SHE TURNED SEVENTEEN! BASTARD! THAT…THAT…THAT…"

Words failing her, she threw her head back and screamed. All over the room, glass shattered and flung shards everywhere. Minerva's hastily erected Shielding Charm only just barely managed to deflect the thousands of glittering pieces.

Akira stood trembling as the worst of her rage eased. "I'm sorry," she finally managed. "I…I didn't…you're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Sounds like you had that bottled up for quite a while."

Akira was spared an answer by Camden flinging open the door. "What happened? Are you all right? What…my God!" as he saw the glass lying everywhere. Minerva hastily got up.

"It's nothing. We were just cleaning up. _Evanesco!_ Go on, get out! We're fine!" Camden didn't seem too sure, but decided to take his leave when Minervabegan fingering her wand.

Akira had collapsed into a chair during the exchange. "Thanks," she said softly. She looked down once more, then quickly got to her feet. "I…should be going." She almost fled down the hall, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

Minerva sighed and began vanishing what was left of the glass.

* * *

Vincent Crabbe stared at his shoes so he wouldn't have to look at Mrs. Weasley's frustrated face. He wished she wouldn't keep dragging him up here and putting him through this every day. He _knew_ he was stupid, Nurse told him so; so why did Mrs. Weasley keep trying to make him smart?

"Vincent, I know you can do better than this! Now, what letter is this?"

He stared at the blank piece of parchment and cast about wildly in his head. "K?"

She threw her hands up. "Vincent." There was a note of warning in her voice.

He shook his head. "I don't know!" He was really glad she'd cast the Silencing Charm around her desk when she'd called him up.

Once again she sighed and put a quill in his hand. "All right, draw me a K."

That was easy, he had it done almost instantly. He felt her eyes on him again. "Now write an X, then an G, then a B." His inside knotted up even worse as he painstakingly wrote the letters. _That_ he could do. Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"Good. Now, what letter is _this_?"

"I don't know!" he burst out desperately. "I can't see it! Nurse says I'm colorblind!"

"Vincent! It's written in black ink. Colorblindness has _nothing_ to do with reading!" She stopped and took a deep breath before continuing in a somewhat calmer voice. "All right. Let's try numbers again." The quill she was holding hovered over the page for a moment, then it touched the parchment and she began moving it around. Vincent watched her hand in a desperate attempt to remember the lines and curves her fingers were tracing. A few seconds later, she looked up. "What numbers are these?"

He closed his eyes like he saw all the other kids doing when they were thinking and went over the way her hand had been moving. "Um, three; fou..no, seven; um…zero; um…" His shoulders drooped again. "I don't remember."

"It's another seven," she said quietly. "Vincent, I know you're not stupid. But you should know this by now!" Perhaps seeing the frustration on his face, she decided to move on again. "Let's try something else. Um…how many fingers am I holding up?"

He looked. "Which one?" he asked…and froze. He was _really_ going to catch it now! Nurse had said that if he saw something beneath someone's clothes again she'd beat him until he couldn't sit down. "I'm sorry!" he blurted. "I didn't mean to, I didn't!"

Mrs. Weasley looked down in shock at her left hand, which was in her pocket with two fingers extended where she'd been tapping them against her wand. "Vincent.." she said slowly, "did you just…" her voice trailed off as he shook his head desperately while losing his battle against crying.

"Uh-uh, no I didn't! I didn't! I don't want Nurse to beat me again!" Tears were running down his face now.

He felt himself pulled into a warm embrace. "No one's going to beat you! You took me by surprise, that's all." She held him until his sobs eased, then gave him a quick squeeze and gently let him go. "Shall we try that again? I promise I'm not going to tell your nurse."

Vincent hesitated, but he'd never seen her lie. "Alright." he mumbled.

Her right hand went into a pocket this time. "Now, how many fingers on my _left_ hand?"

"Five?"

"Very good, Vincent! Now, how about my _right_ hand?"

He stared at her for a long moment, wanting to tell her, but afraid she'd get mad at him. But she _had_ said it was all right. "One?" he whispered.

Mrs. Weasley was already sitting down, but she still managed to collapse a little further into the chair. "That's right," she said in a wondering tone. "How did you do that?"

He shrugged, not sure of what she was talking about. "I can see it."

He flinched as she suddenly pulled out her wand, but all she did was tap the parchment with it. And then…wonder of wonders…letters and numbers rose up from the parchment, letters and numbers that were made of parchment that was suddenly twice as thick as the surrounding surface. He couldn't help a gasp. Was this what it was like for other people to read? "It's a G, and a three, and a seven, and a zero, and another seven!" Something occurred to him and he looked up in wonder. "You wrote those!"

"That's right, I did. You can see them now?"

"Yes!" He wanted to cry and laugh, all at the same time. He settled for hugging himself around the middle and bouncing up and down in sheer joy.

* * *

It seemed Peeves had decided to celebrate April first by tar-and-feathering the statue of Ravyn the Luckless which stood in the corridor about halfway between the Hufflepuff common room and the kitchens. It also seemed that Peeves had found himself with an excess of tar…or maybe molasses, to judge by the smell, and had used it up by slinging little balls of it all around the corridor. And it was also very clear what Mr. Filch's view of the matter was. Said caretaker was shouting louder than Jeremy had _ever_ heard him.

Ignoring Kristin's desperate tugs on his arm in an attempt to get the pair of them far, far away; Jeremy determinedly stepped back around the corner to give Filch a hand. Behind him, he heard Kristin moan in despair, followed almost immediately by a muttered snarl of, "Fine! But you're not going in there alone!" They'd almost made it to Filch when Peeves decided he'd had enough and reached for the formerly unnoticed bag that had been tucked carefully into the brim of Ravyn's hat.

The next few seconds were a confused blur composed of a horrified gasp from Kristin, an instinctive attempt from Jeremy to duck, a roar and useless lunge by Filch as he realized what was coming, and then the world turned white. Peeves cackled hysterically for a moment, then, to judge by the fading sounds, decided that another part of the castle needed his loving touch.

When he'd finally stopped coughing, Jeremy carefully cracked his eyelids and blinked around at the corridor, which looked as though a blizzard had hit it. Flour lay everywhere, with especially thick coatings where the molasses had been applied, and all three humans rather resembled marble statues. That is, if the marble was extremely crumbly and kept falling off whenever the statue moved. Filch stared around for a long moment in what appeared to be horrified disbelief. Jeremy couldn't blame him. In a mess this bad, where did you even start? That was when the caretaker's gaze fixed on him and Kristin and Jeremy suddenly realized he was at ground zero.

"I'm sorry, sir," he blurted out, "we were just trying to…but I guess we weren't much help," he mumbled as the reality of his surroundings intruded once more. He braced for the inevitable detention.

Filch stared at him as if trying to see through the layers of flour. "Williamson?" He sounded as if he was trying to decide how furious he should be.

"Erm, yessir. I was just…erm…" He couldn't think what to say, in his defense or anything else. How _did_ one clean up that much flour? Not to mention the molasses…or the feathers on the statue…

Filch jerked impatiently. "Well, don't just stand there!" He strode over to a broom closet a bit down the way and returned with a broom and dustpan.

Jeremy automatically reached for the broom only to have it pulled away. "You are a Hogwarts student, are you not?" Filch waited long enough for Jeremy to open his mouth before going on. "Then you ought to know well enough how to use the wand I see you carrying. You two see what you can do with that statue. Damn it, I'm going to have Peeves' head for a _trophy_ this time!" he snarled as he turned and scooped up the now empty flourbag.

Kristin blinked before cautiously leaning towards Jeremy and whispering, "Did he just give us permission to use magic during a detention?"

"It's not a detention, and yes. And I'd advise we get to it unless you want a _real_ detention." He eyed the statue. "Do you think Summoning the molasses will do any good?"


	30. Under the Summer Sun

A.N. First off, I just wanted to say that I'm very, very sorry about how long this chapter took to write. There were a lot of things going on in my life, and for quite a while, I was just too tired to write anything. Even on those occaisions when I tried, what came out was so horrible that I gave up pretty quickly. But finals are over and things have calmed down, so hopefully I can get the next chapter up pretty quickly. Again, sorry. And if I ever pull something like this again, feel free to kick my, erm, rear.

For those of you who are requesting 'Hero', I'm working on it. Trying to decide if I should rewrite it to be a little more canon accurate or if I should just have the timeline split off between OOTP and HBP. Either way, it _should_ be up soon.

Due to not having a whole lot of time before having to report to work, I'm going to post the chapter now and do the review responses tonight when I get home from work. See you all then! And kudos to anyone who recognizes Vincent's parents' names!

* * *

Martigan Crabbe nodded his head at careful intervals and lost himself in his own thoughts as Lucius kept talking. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with Mudblood bashing, mind, it was just that there was only a certain number of times one could go over a single topic. And in any case, there were _much_ more interesting things to think about. For example: ickle Vincent, who had been showing off his new-found reading skills only that afternoon. 

"…Weasley…," suddenly cut through his wandering thoughts and Martigan snapped to attention.

"…got no less than he deserved, the filthy blood traitor. I wonder I didn't have him fired years ago. Certainly more…peaceful…at the Ministry these days."

So _that_ was where he'd heard the name before. Martigan shifted uneasily at the revelation. He had the bad feeling that the Mrs. Weasley who was currently teaching Vincent almost had to be the wife of the man who had been unfortunate enough to tangle with Lucius. Considering that Mrs. Weasley was also teaching young Draco, Martigan was quite certain that Lucius would want to know the Weasley family's current circumstances. Problem was, this was also the same Mrs. Weasley who had saved his son.

Even now, Martigan wasn't quite sure what to make of the conference he and Bavmorda had had with the Weasley woman. Vincent, _blind_? Surely not! And yet, and yet… In the end, Martigan had been convinced more by Mrs. Weasley's tone of not-so-hidden wonder than by anything else.

Blindness was hardly unknown in the wizarding world, but the solution Vincent seemed to figured out as a mere _infant_ certainly wasn't. As near as anyone could tell, Vincent surrounded himself with a sphere of magic and used it to, quite literally, _feel_ his way around. The range wasn't that impressive, but apparently the sphere could be 'pushed' out in a direction if Vincent wanted to take a look at something farther away than, say, ten feet or so. And since he'd been born blind, he'd never known that there was anything different.

It also explained why Vincent had found it impossible to read. Mrs. Weasley had explained it as being in a darkened library. One could feel the covers and the individual pages of the book, but the ink was invisible. But do as Mrs. Weasley had done and charm the page so that the paper was ridged underneath the characters…

Martigan shifted in his chair as the memory of his (smart! His boy was _smart!_) son's radiant face as he'd glanced up at his parents while he slowly read his favorite book to them. Mrs. Weasley had given him and Bavmorda a miracle. And as for what she'd told them about the way Vincent was treated by his nurse…his _former_ nurse, anyway…well, Madam Huckleberry had looked quite good as a human/toad hybrid.

Somehow, it didn't come as much of a surprise to realize that he'd already made his decision. This was one thing Lucius was going to have to find out on his own.

* * *

"…and these are both your mothers when they were very young; about the same age as you are now, as a matter of fact." 

Minerva watched as her grandsons tentatively examined the old muggle photograph. So far, they'd been rather quiet, as though uncertainly attempting to match fading memories to the people either frozen in time or waving enthusiastically up at them. She'd finally settled on June fifth as the day to show them their roots and remind them of where they'd come from. Halloween had been briefly considered, but it wasn't really appropriate. You-Know-Who might have met his fate that day, but James and Terry Evans hadn't come into existence for another eight months. She wondered briefly just what the two sets of parents would make of their sons if they could see them now.

"Gran, who's this?" James asked, holding up a picture of a sleepy baby Harry cuddled up against a large, black dog with a red and gold striped party hat on his head and a matching scarf tied around his neck. Minerva frowned and gently took the picture to study it more closely.

"Well, the boy is you; but I don't remember your parents ever owning a dog. Perhaps they had a friend over that day." She flipped it over, but all the inscription said was 'New Years Day, 1981: Padfoot and Harry'. Hmph, not much help there. It was odd, though. She could almost swear she remembered the name 'Padfoot' from somewhere. She chased the memory for a minute, then finally gave up. It had the feel of an older recollection, so it probably didn't have anything to do with the picture, anyway.

Pulling herself back to the moment, she carefully put the photograph on top of the neat pile at her feet and picked up the next one. "Oh, look, Terry! That's Petunia, Vernon, and you right after you were born!"

* * *

Draco carefully studied his room, hoping to magically find a hiding place that hadn't popped out at the first ten examinations. Nothing. His fingers twitched, longing to hold the stack of homework and pictures he'd hidden under the bed that afternoon. The other kids at school were lucky. When Mrs. Weasley had said that today was the last day of school, _they_ hadn't had to worry about where they could put their important stuff until school started back up and he could keep it safely in his cubby. He was the only one who had to be afraid that his parents wouldn't like his papers and would burn them like he sometimes saw Father doing to parchments late at night when he thought no one was looking. Even Vincent had said that _his_ parents were keeping some of his stuff hung up on the walls of his room. Draco sighed and sat dejectedly down. 

There was a loud pop and Draco jumped before realizing that it was only Dobby. The house elf wore bandages over his fingers and toes today for some reason. Draco usually found it funny when Father or Mother told Dobby to punish himself, but today, nothing seemed amusing.

The small creature bowed so low his pillowcase threatened to slide off over his head. "Dobby does not want to disturb Young Master, but Mistress is saying that Dobby should be making sure that Young Master is ready for bed." Without waiting for an answer, Dobby snapped his fingers and the toys and books scattered around the room began flying towards various shelves and closets. Mixed amongst them was a scattering stack of papers.

"Hey!" Draco yelped, "leave those alone!" Dobby cringed in on himself before somehow whisking the papers out of midair into a neat stack. Heart pounding, Draco was about to take his frustrations out on the house elf when a sudden thought struck him. "Erm, Dobby?" he asked hesitantly.

The house elf jerked guiltily as he looked up from the papers he'd been covertly eyeing while wringing his ears. "Young Master has a better punishment?"

"No," he said, his throat trying to close up at the thought of what he was doing. "Um, Dobby, do you know where I can hide something so that I'm the only one that can find it?" One of Mrs. Weasley's favorite phrases flashed across his mind and he quickly added, "Please?"

Dobby's large eyes widened and he looked as though he was about to say something, but then he suddenly gave a fearful glance at the door and thought better of it. When he did speak, his voice had dropped to a whisper. "Young Master is asking Dobby's help? Like he would another wizard?"

It was a little too late to back out now. Draco nodded tightly.

"Dobby…" the house elf kept glancing over his shoulder at the door, "Dobby thinks perhaps he…he knows the perfect spot. No one will be looking there, not even Silke." He glanced down at the stack of homework and started to reach out for it, then snatched his hand back. "But Master Draco is not wanting his family to see these?"

"I don't want Father to burn them. Those are _mine_!"

Dobby was nodding eagerly, and there was an odd light in his eyes. "Then Dobby will be hiding them immediately! Dobby will be right back!" and he vanished, along with Draco's papers.

He sank back down to the floor, though this time, it was from relief. Mrs. Weasley was right. 'Please' really _did_ work. He filed the observation away for future use.

* * *

The hot July sun blazed down over the makeshift Quidditch pitch, but none of the young players gave it any mind. 

James pulled his Oakshaft around to dodge the training Bludger and dealt it a solid backhand towards the opposing Chasers, two of whom promptly crashed into each other in their attempts to dodge the Bludger. He grinned and at his brother's shout, whipped around to meet the second ball. A idea struck him and he allowed his broom to climb. The Bludger came closer and closer…now! James flung himself sideways into a Starfish, just like he'd seen David do during last week's game.

Some way, he wasn't sure just how, the Oakshaft's handle suddenly wasn't in his hand anymore. There was an eternal instant of bliss when he flew, really flew, just like a dragon. And then the ground rose to meet him.

Five minutes later, Akira was diagnosing a broken arm.

* * *

Arthur Weasley winced as his wife's dulcet tones pierced the dining room. "Frederick Gideon Weasley! If I catch you feeding your dinner to Rover one more time…" Molly's lecture stormed on, punctuated by Fred's protests and George's attempts to help his twin. A stealthy movement caught Arthur's attention and he glanced over just in time to see Percy calmly drop a piece of liver onto the floor. 

Under the pretext of accidentally dropping his fork, Arthur snatched a quick look at the floor next to Percy's place and had to suppress a snort of laughter. Every bit of the liver Percy had served himself seemed to have gone into a neat little pile which Rover, oddly enough, was ignoring. Percy's expression never changed, nor gave any sign that he was occupied otherwise than eating his dinner. Arthur sat back to watch.

Molly finally got the last word and the twins hunched sulkily in their seats. Rover was still watching the twins hopefully, but at this, he slumped to the floor and let out a pitiful sigh. Percy shook his head sanctimoniously, then snapped his fingers under the table. "Come on, Rover, you don't need to be sitting next to those two. Come'ere." Rover heaved himself to his feet and walked dejectedly over to Percy's place before flopping down next to his master. Arthur had to suppress a smile as he noticed that the dog's head, now hidden from view by the tabletop, seemed to have gone exactly where Percy's cache was.

Odd, that, and perhaps a bit worrying. Any one of the other children wouldn't have hesitated to pull a stunt like that, but _Percy_? And the manner he'd gone about doing it… As Arthur took another bite of his mashed potatoes, he resolved to keep a closer eye on his son.

* * *

Hagrid couldn't recall when he'd had a longer summer. But late August had finally arrived, and the various staff members were back at Hogwarts greeting one another and exchanging vacation stories. Minerva, in particular, was getting a hero's welcome, and almost everyone seemed genuinely glad to have her back. The twins, of course, were running amok and Filch's cat had already jumped onto the staff table, probably to get away until they'd calmed down a little. 

Feeling suddenly nervous, Hagrid sidled over to Minerva and the boys. At the light tap on her shoulder, she looked over, then up, and her face lit up in a smile. But whatever she was about to say was promptly drowned out by twin yells of "Hagrid!" as two small, tanned figures started swarming up his legs.

"Hey, hey!" he chortled as he scooped them up and gave them a good hug before depositing the now-breathless boys onto the table top. Once the frenzied greetings had died down somewhat, he gave the twins a look of anticipation. "Here now, I've got something' for yeh. Bit early fer Christmas, yet, but…" He reached into his pocket, then stopped and looked down in bewilderment as his hand met only cloth. From halfway across the room, Septima Vector suddenly screamed.

* * *

James sprinted towards the animal that had just darted underneath the table while Terry went after it from the side. Hagrid was shouting something, as was Gran, but he ignored them in favor of his prey. He dove under the table, certain he had it, but the animal skittered away from him and hastily climbed the chair Professor Trelawney was standing on; causing her hysterical shrieks to rise from ear piercing to glass-shattering. The creature started to scramble up her robes, but a particularly violent movement from Trelawney dislodged it and both James and Terry dove for it once more. 

It somehow managed to dodge them both again, and James' head smacked into Terry's so hard he saw stars. As his vision came back, he looked up in time to see Professor Snape come into the Great Hall. Snape took one look at the thing running towards the door and pulled his wand, causing Hagrid's panicked shouts to change from "Shut it, shut it!" to "Don't hurt 'im! 'e's just scared!" And then Gran hurled a tablecloth over the creature and the fun ended.

* * *

For a while, Terry thought Gran wasn't going to let him and James keep the Treeclimber, despite he and his brother adding to Hagrid's pleas. They'd never gotten to have a pet of their very own before and they really wanted one. And _nobody_ at Hogwarts had an animal that looked like this one. 

She, as it turned out to be, most resembled a crup-sized spider with some traces of dog here and there. Stiff, black hair covered her body and all eight legs, and her sixteen eyes made up a circle around her head. Hagrid said she was fast, well, they'd known _that_ already, and she was intelligent and loyal and _fun_! And she was still a baby, so when she grew up she'd be nice and big. Professor Trelawney had turned absolutely white for some reason when Hagrid mentioned that last bit, and Poppy had hurried her off to the hospital wing.

Still, Gran had finally caved in enough to say that Hagrid could board it for a bit until she'd had a chance to do some research. And, in response to Terry's eager question, she'd stated emphatically that no, it could _not_ sleep on Terry's bed even if she decided that it was safe enough for them.

* * *

Minerva stared through her grandsons' bedroom door while mentally preparing herself for the student invasion that would occur tomorrow. 

For once, Hagrid had actually been sort of right about a rather dangerous-looking magical creature. Owing to the fact that Treeclimbers were technically illegal crossbreeds between Miniature Acromantulas and Crups, information was rather scarce; but what little there was seemed to indicate that while a Treeclimber was quite capable of defending itself, it tended to bond with a family if introduced young enough. It hadn't hurt that when she'd visited the breeder to ask some more questions, his daughter had spent Minerva's entire visit curled up asleep in a corner with her head on a St. Bernard-sized Treeclimber. And in the end, it hadn't escaped Minerva that with as much trouble as the twins seemed to find, it might not hurt to have an extra guardian around. Of course, certain restrictions did have to apply…

Minerva studied the dark room and the occupied beds, then heaved a sigh of defeat. Rule number one had already been broken…there was an especially dark shadow lying on the foot of Terry's bed.


	31. Argus' Army

Well, hiatus is over for the moment and I apologize deeply. Writer's block still; I think mostly brought on by exhaustion, hopefully it'll ease up with some of the changes I'm making to my schedule. Thanks to all of you who reviewed, and for those of you who kept up hope. Believe me, this story is NOT abandoned, there's far too much story still to be covered. I may be taking my time getting around to writing it out, but I have every intention of finishing it and going on to the sequel. And I'd like you all to meet my new beta, Leahr. She's got an eagle eye, and has a knack for spotting awkward places and knowing what to suggest instead. Thank you, Leah.

* * *

Minerva crossed her arms and glared furiously at the staff-room wall while behind her, professors slowly trickled in for the weekly meeting. Filius kept trying to catch her eye, but she kept pointedly avoiding his encouraging smiles. Three months! For Merlin's sake, it had only been _three months_ since they'd gotten the tree climber! And then to have something like _this_ happen! Still, the twins swore that she'd only been…Poppy's voice interrupted Minerva's mental rant and she realized the medi-witch had been talking for the last couple of minutes. 

"For what it's worth, the wound _was_ free of venom, so I would say it safe to assume the…er, creature intended the bite to be more of a warning than an all-out attack. Mr. Jordan did go into shock, but it seems to have been the psychological reaction of being bitten by a spider of that size, rather than a reaction to anything injected in the wound. But how you're going to explain that to his parents, I don't know," Poppy added, making a wry face.

Her mood suddenly vastly improved, Minerva jumped in. "There are several witnesses who said that Mr. Jordan was shoving the twins around just prior to the attack. Add to that the fact that despite the provocation, Spiderlady does seem to have made an effort not to hurt him too badly…" Minerva let the sentence trail off. "I seem to recall the Jordans becoming rather upset with their son the last time he was accused of bullying."

"Good!" seemed to be the general reaction. Pomona Sprout suddenly creased her forehead into a puzzled frown. "Wait, _Spiderlady_? I thought her name was Harry."

Minerva groaned. "Spiderlady is her proper name. However, the twins seem to have decided that she also needed a nickname." There were knowing chuckles from those members of the staff who were parents and blank looks from those who weren't. "Hence: Hairy. Which, by the way, seems to have been inspired by the fur on her legs." She didn't miss Snape's sneer, but settled for narrowing her eyes at him.

Poppy tilted her head to one side. "I…see," though her expression showed that she didn't. "So it's _Hairy_, not _Harry_! I'd _wondered_ why you'd given the poor thing a boy's name!"

Those people in the room not interested in the exploits of the treeclimber seemed to be getting restless, something that wasn't lost on the Headmaster. "As enlightening as this conversation is, we should probably be getting back to business before we miss the excellent supper the house elves are preparing. I believe you were enquiring about the possibility of replacing Greenhouse Three, Pomona?"

The Herbology Professor leaned forward with an abruptly serious demeanor. "I'm afraid so. It was never the same after the time the Halloween pumpkin landed on it…"

Hagrid suddenly began protesting and Pomona hastened to reassure him. "I know, I know, that wasn't your fault; nothing you could have done to prevent it, but the fact remains that magic can only repair something so far…and for so long," she added. "The repair job's held out for four years now, but it's showing signs of strain and I was hoping to get the greenhouse replaced _before_ it actually failed."

Albus nodded. "A wise idea. I shall owl the manufacturer as soon as I return to my office. Now, Severus, I believe you said something about a regurgitating cauldron?"

* * *

Jeremy shrugged as he dusted off the gargoyle, then ducked back as the stone monster stretched its wings and shook itself. "I'm not too fussed about that career advisement, to be honest. I'm always known what I wanted to be." 

Argus raised an eyebrow. "Better'n most of the brats running around here. So what _do_ you want to be?"

Jeremy grinned and started flicking the cloth at the gargoyle's claws, while suppressing the impulse to sneeze from the dust particles dancing in the light streaming in through the window. "An Auror, like my great-aunt was."

The sudden lack of movement beside him was more startling than anything else would have been. Jeremy glanced over to see Mr. Filch staring at him, his face frozen. "An Auror…" he said slowly.

Jeremy shifted under the intense gaze, feeling like something was wrong, but not sure what. "Yes, sir. I want to go out and catch people like the Death Eaters so they won't be…you know, going out and hurting people. And maybe I'd find the monsters who killed Harry Potter and send them to Azkaban."

The old man didn't move, but Jeremy got the sudden impression that Filch's attention was directed towards some inner conflict rather than at anything around him. Then, with a suddenness that startled Jeremy into take a step back, Filch snapped out of wherever he'd been. "Yes, you would be the type to do something like that."

There was a fire in the caretaker's eyes now and he was nodding. "A worthy job, but do you have any idea of what you'd be getting into?"

Jeremy grinned, feeling suddenly relieved. "I'm ready for anything."

"No; no, you're not." Mr. Filch was smiling now, and it was the kind of expression to send seventh years fleeing in utter terror. "But you will be…"

* * *

Fifteen feet ahead, Jeremy saw dimly saw one of his two best friends wave him on. He dashed forward and ducked into the dark alcove. Saleem's teeth shone faintly in the darkness as he grinned and leaned over to whisper into Jeremy's ear. "Filch's off that way, a bit down the corridor. I heard him bump into something a moment ago." 

Jeremy nodded tightly. "What about Mrs. Norris?" he murmured back.

There was the soft rustle of cloth as Saleem shrugged. "No idea. At least Kristin managed to tag the twins before Filch got _her_." Both boys had to suppress snickers as they remembered the frantic battle which had erupted when the Evans twins had snuck up behind her and pounced. But the important part was that Kristin _had_ managed to smack both of the pair with the small pillow she preferred to use as a weapon before Filch had walked up and pressed his curtain rod to her back. "Your turn on point, Jer."

Both boys held their breaths as they listened, but there was nothing aside from the normal gentle creaking noises the castle always made at night. Jeremy took a cautious step out, wishing for just a little light, then glided along the wall towards the corner concealing their next hiding spot. Remembering what Mr. Filch had said the last time, he got down on all fours as he approached the corner, then carefully peered around, his chin almost brushing the floor. Nothing. He got back up and eased around, keeping as low to the ground as he could and still be walking. Still nothing, and the statue nook was just ahead. A cursory glance revealed nothing out of the ordinary, so he turned to slip back to the corner and wave Saleem on.

From behind, a hand slammed over his mouth and yanked his head back at the same instant as something cold and metallic pressed into his throat. "Say goodnight," Filch's voice whispered into Jeremy's ear just before he gently released his quarry. Jeremy resisted the urge to groan as Filch glided over to the corner and stuck his hand around just enough to give the 'go ahead' signal. Seconds later, Saleem was 'dead' as well and Mrs. Norris was rubbing against all three sets of ankles.

* * *

Jeremy was still rubbing his throat a few minutes later when they reached Filch's office for a cup of hot cocoa and the review of the night's game. James and Terry looked up eagerly as the door creaked open. Kristin did not, having managed to fall asleep while wedged awkwardly between two filing cabinets. Jeremy hastily put his finger to his lips and shook his head as the twins showed signs of wanting to wake Kristin themselves.

He snuck up to her and gave her shoulder a quick shake. Kristin flailed wildly and jerked upright. "I wasn't sleeping, Professor McGonagall!" A few seconds later she joined in the general laughter. "Sorry, I thought I was in Transfiguration," she said weakly.

"I guess that explains your last test score," Saleem managed to get out as he gasped for breath. Filch just shook his head while trying to conceal a slight twitching at the corners of his lips.

"Not a very good idea, you never know when you might have to turn someone into a toad. Regardless," he added, turning slightly to face all five of his students, "not bad tonight, not bad at all. You made a few mistakes, such as not checking to see if anyone was behind that statue, but I think you're starting to get the idea."

Jeremy massaged his throat and winced. "Sure won't be making _that_ mistake again!"

Filch chuckled and lightly tapped the brass curtain rod sitting on the desk next to him. "No, you won't." He glanced up at the clock and stood up to stretch. "I think I've kept you all up long enough for one night. Remember,…"

"If we're clumsy enough to get caught by anyone on our way back, it's our own lookout and we're responsible for the detention," everybody dutifully recited together.

There was no mistaking the pride in the old man's eyes, even if he was certain he was doing an excellent job of hiding it. "Exactly." He opened his office door and glanced out. "Corridor's clear; you've got a five minute head start, beginning…now!" Jeremy and Saleem stood back to let Kristin and the twins go by, then they eased out the door to begin the stealthy trip back to their respective beds.

* * *

"So how is Argus' Army coming along?" Poppy cheerfully enquired as Minerva finished pouring everyone's tea. "I've heard all kinds of stories from James and Terry, here, but I was wondering what the 'adult' take on it was." 

Minerva chuckled. "Everything is going fine, from what I hear. Just don't call it Argus' Army in front of him unless you _want _a half-hour rant on why three teenagers, two children, and a 'broken-down old man', are anything _but _an army and he's merely teaching them the basics of survival, especially as at least one boy is going into a highly dangerous profession and he's not going to last five seconds unless _someone's _willing to teach him. And that's not even counting the twins, because they're _certainly _going to need to know something about defense, what with their 'condition'…etc, etc, etc."

"Don't forget to breathe, Minerva!" Poppy advised while trying to hold in her laughter.

"Anyway, I think you get the idea, Poppy." She gave her wand an absent-minded flick and vanished the crumbs on Terry's shirt.

Poppy nibbled thoughtfully on a biscuit. "I'd think _you _of all people would be the first to discourage students running wild around the castle at night. Or does that explain why those three have been getting so many detentions lately?"

"Uh-huh," James spluttered around a mouthful of biscuit. "Ahgu hay 'ee gogga…"

"James! Mouthful!" The boy hastily swallowed, then choked and had to go for his cup of weak tea. Minerva hastily carried on before her grandson could start again.

"Actually, no. As James was saying, most of those detentions actually have been coming from Filch." She held up a hand to forestall Poppy's startled exclamation. "I know, I know, but he swears it's the best way to teach them stealth. Apparently, he's established a rule that if he catches them on the way to or from his office, he treats them the same way he would any other student out of bed. Of course, it goes without saying that if they get caught by a professor, they're _certainly _not getting out of anything!"

"Gran?" Terry enquired, his eyes on the plate of meat pies. Minerva nodded, and two pairs of hands shot out.

Minerva shook his head. "The house elves aren't going to be happy when _these_ two reach their teens. Werewolves or not, just how much can two boys _eat_, anyway?"

"You really don't want to know," Poppy sighed. "Bear in mind that a wolf is capable of eating up to a fifth of his body weight at a sitting, and werewolves are no different. Just glad we live someplace where you're not the one having to worry about the grocery bills!"

"True enough. While we're on the subject, have you heard anything about that new pain-relieving potion you were telling me about the other week? You said it was supposed to be a little more gentle on the body?"

Poppy shook her head reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Minerva. The Healers' Council just got done refusing to approve it due to a long-term side effect they just discovered."

Minerva's shoulders drooped. "It was that bad?"

Poppy didn't bother to repress a sigh. "Well, increased aggression was noted in almost all the subjects, but what finally killed it was the discovery that if you spent any kind of time with dogs or dog-like creatures, your skin turns bluish grey and your face migrates to your backside. Unfortunately for the poor bloke who made the discovery, the Healers haven't yet found out how to reverse it…"

* * *

Terry stretched and then winced as sore muscles started complaining louder than his aching joints. Turning into a wolf was fun, but it did hurt. The odor of sausage drifted through the halls, but it held little interest for him. He was usually starving after a full moon, but last night's snack was still tiding him over. 

Odd how Gran had gone absolutely spare when she'd caught him eating. For a decided second, he'd caught the shift in her scent that meant she was changing back to a person, but then she'd apparently changed her mind and settled for simply swatting at his already scratched nose until he'd moved away from his delicious catch. And then she'd gone and rushed him up to the Hospital Wing the instant they'd changed back into people and he'd just wanted to sleep.

Terry wrinkled his nose and sullenly ignored Gran as she chivied him and James down to the Great Hall for… what? breakfast? Still, maybe he could catch another rat the next time it was full moon…

* * *

A.N. In response to several reviews I've already gotten, no, nothing special about that rat. Sorry. It's just one of those side-effects of being a werewolf. Wolves LOVE to eat rats and other small rodents and I can't see werewolves being very different (poor Minerva!). If nothing else, eating a human in rat form could be considered cannibalism, and I don't want to go there.The rat-catching thing will come up later, and Peter will come back into the story, but not for a bit yet. Again, sorry. 


	32. First Battle

Thanks for all your reviews, they really brighten my day. Sorry I'm taking so long to update, I'm kind of snowed under right now. I'm doing my best to figure out some solutions. For any of my newer readers, I'll be quite happy to respond to your reviews, but I can't in chapter. If you can't or don't want to sign in for your review, jsut leave an e-mail address and I'll be happy to write you. Enjoy!

* * *

Six months of counting every knut and still worrying about having enough money to eat once the rent was paid. The loneliness brought about by the general public knowing of his condition, of fighting to make his voice be heard and failing. There were days when he woke up and stared at the ceiling in despair, days when the only thing that kept him going was the vision of two boys growing up to face the same prejudices he'd taken for granted most of his life.

Some days he felt as though each politician was a small brick in a massive wall of indifference, a wall that refused to crumble no matter which brick he battered himself against. Some listened to him politely, nodded, and did nothing; others never even found time in their busy schedules. The man he was meeting with today had been unable to find the time for five months, according to his secretary. It seemed that werewolf rights was not a battle anyone was interested in taking up.

* * *

"Hmph." Ebenezer Conrald threw down one page onto the growing pile on his desktop and seized the next one as though it was a small animal that might try to escape. Thus far, he'd inspected each page of the brief Remus had painstakingly researched and written out, but had said nothing. The last page was scanned and tossed down onto the pile. Conrald sat back thoughtfully and studied Remus as closely as the younger man had been watching him.

"Meticulously researched," he pronounced as he flicked impatiently at a paper trying to escape the stack, "and flawlessly written. You've covered every possible objection or argument anyone could come up with."

Remus had been doing this too long to miss what Conrald hadn't said. "But…"

Conrald sat back and folded his arms behind his head, a glint in his mismatched green and brown eyes. "It's dead boring."

Remus jerked in shock at the man's bluntness, something that seemed to amuse Conrald. "People aren't interested in the boring issues- they want something that catches their attention. They want to be entertained; to be shocked, scandalized." He leaned forward suddenly. "So tell me, Mr. Lupin. Why should I oppose making public the Werewolf Registry?"

Had he been in wolf form, Remus' tail would have been between his legs. Conrald had been one of his few remaining hopes, and it had been dashed in a few sentences. At this point, the only thing to do was get to his feet and attempt to salvage some dignity as he left. Yet Conrald's expectant gaze held him in his seat. Remus hesitated, horribly aware that he was well out of his depth and uncertain of what he was supposed to answer.

"No man fights for something he cares nothing about," Conrald added softly as the silence stretched on. "Why do _you_ fight, Mr. Lupin?"

James and Terry's faces flashed across Remus' mind again, but he bit back the words. In their wake came the dim memory of another boy reading a book on ancient history to three bored and inattentive friends. One passage in particular seemed to highlight itself. Resolve crystallized and Remus leaned slightly forward without even realizing he was doing it.

"Mr. Conrald, would you mind if I told you a story?"

A flicker of something Remus couldn't quite identify flashed across Conrald's face (Was it disappointment? Resignation?), but all he did was sit back. "This ought to be interesting," he said, more to the room at large than to Remus.

Remus plowed on, somehow feeling that if he managed to walk out of here without a pledge to help, his cause was lost. In six months, this was the closest he had come to gaining a supporter; he _could not_ fail this. "A long time ago, a teenaged boy lived under the reign of a certain baron, in the fens of eastern England…"

* * *

…the younger of the Baron's sons took only mildly ill, but the older boy and, sadly, the Baron himself, succumbed to the plague, despite the best efforts of the local Healer." Remus watched in wonder from his seat high in a balcony as Conrald addressed the Wizard's Council and assorted spectators. The simple story he had told Conrald seemed to take on a life of its own in the masterful hands of the silver-tongued speaker and reach out to each person sitting in the hall.

"…he firmly believed that the reason he had survived was _because_ he had refused the Healers' aid. His reasoning was supported by the fact that a certain portion of his people had come through the plague with only minimal losses, leading to the conclusion that they must have been the ones to _cause_ the plague. Remember, germs were unknown back then; this sort of thinking was all too common. But the youngest son, now the new Baron, said nothing out loud, merely called for a census. He read through it and marked certain names and their homes. Then he called for his soldiers and gave them the list."

There was nothing so unrefined as a sudden intake of breath from the listeners, but Remus saw several people slowly stiffen from a dawning apprehension. "The boy whom this story is about awoke in the dead of night shortly thereafter. Like many people in his time and place, his home was a rude dwelling made of wood and straw. By the time he woke up, fire was consuming the roof and smoke choked the air inside. He had no way of knowing it, but archers surrounded his home, and the homes of all those like him, with orders to fire on anyone who made it outside."

There was an agonizing pause as Conrald sipped from the glass sitting on the podium. "Perhaps it is fortunate, then, that the roof chose that moment to collapse. With no time to think, he acted. And somehow, even as he flung himself into his first Apparation, he managed to grab the hand of the little sister sleeping on the pallet next to him."

"They Splinched, of course. The girl lost her foot and part of the leg, while the boy lost forever an ear, several teeth, and most of a finger when the falling roof landed on the body parts left behind.

But by some miracle, the spot he Apparated to was under a willow tree, hidden beneath the thick branches, so the soldiers missed the youngsters. Showing remarkable fortitude for such a young man, he managed to smuggle the two of them out of the area, and he found refuge with a sympathetic family by the name of Gryffindor in the moors of the north."

"Years passed, and Angharad grew up to become a Healer of great renown, while Salazar…well, I think everyone in the wizarding world knows of Salazar Slytherin and his role in building the greatest school in England."

A sudden murmuring arose, to be drowned out by a shout of, "I object!" from a red-faced man sitting near the back. "Salazar Slytherin was no werewolf!"

Conrald smiled politely. "I never said he was. You forget that there was a time when wizards were as feared as werewolves are now."

He gazed slowly around the hall, then spread his hands in a seemingly helpless gesture. "Lists are tools, they can be harmful or helpful. But a grocery list is very different from…say, the Hogwarts school roster. The roster is quite rightly kept sealed by the Hogwarts Board of Directors. But think of the reaction, the outcry that would ensue should the Board of Directors decide to emblazon it upon the walls of the atrium of the Ministry of Magic." Conrald's voice hardened. "Yet we expect a portion of our community to do just that without even the simplest of protections? How can we…"

Tuning out Conrald for the time being, Remus slowly scanned the hall, studying reactions that ranged from thoughtful to outraged, uncertain to bored. He wasn't really sure if things were going well or not, but at least no one was asleep. One more scan of the hall, then he made himself sit back. All there really was to do was sit back and take mental notes. One way or another, he just wished it was over.

* * *

The scene outside the enchanted wall/window was bright and sunny, but Remus unconsciously turned away as he collapsed bonelessly into the hard chair in the corner of Conrald's office. "We lost," he said dully.

"Depends on your definition of a loss," Conrald said briskly as he glanced through a sheath of papers.

Remus shook his head in incomprehension. "But…the bill _passed_. The Werewolf Registry isn't sealed any more, _anyone_ can access it!"

Conrald held up an admonishing finger as he skimmed through a letter. "Ah, but I hope you noticed how many people voted to keep it closed, and better yet, how many abstained altogether instead of voting against. _That_ number was rather greater than I'd expected." He tossed the letter onto his desk and opened another. "You seem to have brought this issue up at a good time. We keep hammering at them and more people will start coming over to our side. Politics is like a war, it rarely is decided in a single battle. Ah-ha!"

Remus reacted barely in time to keep the thick letter Conrald had tossed him from smacking him in the face.

"A Miss Eleanor Clay wrote in to say how much that little story of yours affected her and she now sees werewolves in a wholly new light." There was no mistaking the amusement in Conrald's voice.

Letting the letter fall into his lap, Remus relapsed into gloom. "Too bad it didn't convince the Council."

"Of course it didn't, pup, the _story_ was never meant to!"

Yet again, Remus felt utterly out of his depth. Squashing an abrupt surge of indignation, he managed to ask calmly, "Then what was the point of telling it?"

"You're holding one of the reasons," Conrald said briskly. "Your average politician may be immune to sob-stories, but your average citizen is not. Get a strong enough following _there_, and werewolf rights will suddenly become much more popular with my fellow politicians."

It did make a kind of sense. "So what was the other reason?" he enquired carefully.

Conrald studied Remus for a minute, then sat back and steepled his fingers. "This is a new world for you, pup," he said almost gently, as he might have spoken to a bewildered child. "There are things you're going to need to learn if you're going to survive in it." His tone turned brisk again. "First thing tomorrow, I want you in here with your thoughts on today's session and how you would go about building on it. I'll tell you where you're wrong, and you'll defend yourself. Understood? Excellent, I'll see you tomorrow morning!"

Remus was out the door and halfway down the hallway before he realized he never had gotten an answer to his question.

* * *

Akira was uncharacteristically bouncy during the Saturday lunch date she'd arranged with Minerva. Perhaps it was only the beautiful spring weather, but Minerva rather doubted it. At the first opportunity, she leaned in. "So, who is he?"

"Is it _that_ obvious?" Akira laughed, and the sound of her voice was freer than Minerva had ever heard it. "His name's Alec and a sweeter man you've never met! It's like falling in love for the first time."

"Akira, that's wonderful! How did you meet him?"

The dark-haired woman ducked her head in a failed attempt to hide the blush touching her cheeks. "He'd just moved into the area and dropped by my office to meet the local Healer." She laughed again. "It was love at first sight!"

"Well good for you! It couldn't have happened to a nicer girl." A thought struck Minerva and she unconsciously narrowed her eyes. "So how is your ex taking this?"

Akira's smile grew predatory and she gave an actual smirk. "You heard that Samuel's new wife got pregnant?"

"No, I hadn't." Minerva frowned. "Did the child not look like him?"

Akira rather resembled an extremely satisfied cat as she stretched her back and settled more comfortably into her chair. "No idea, the baby's not due for another couple months. But…" she smirked again, "Samuel happens to be infertile. That was why _we _never had any children."

Minerva's mouth fell open. "You're joking!"

"I most certainly am not! They're separated at the moment, and he's talking divorce. Serves him right; running off after some little chit like that." She snorted. "Believe it or not, he actually tried to get back together with me. I told him what he could do with that idea."

"I'll say!" Minerva exclaimed. "After what he did to you, he'd _dare_ come running back?! You should have hexed him."

Akira just shrugged. "He can do what he likes, I really don't care anymore." Somehow she managed to add an air of finality to the sip she took of her tea. And the conversation turned to other matters.

* * *

Draco stole a glance at his parents as they all emerged from the immaculate fireplace. Father gave Mother a light peck on the cheek and he actually smiled briefly. Draco relaxed. Sometimes Father was upset and snappish after a party, particularly when Draco had managed to do something wrong, but it seemed that tonight had gone well. Eager to get upstairs and tell Dobby about the party, Draco was turning to leave when Mother put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him in for a light hug.

"Draco," she said as she stepped back, still keeping that warm hand on his shoulder, "you behaved very well tonight and I am very proud of you. If I could hold you up before the world as a beacon of how a true wizard should be, I would." Then she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead before releasing him with a smile. Draco felt lightheaded and barely remembered in time to stop his hand traveling to where he still felt her kiss. Even Father was smiling and nodding in approval.

He practically floated up the stairs and down the corridor to his room. Mrs. Weasley hugged him all the time, and she'd kissed him on several occasions, but Mother almost never did. Sometimes it confused him; he knew he loved Mother and Father because they were his parents, and he was pretty sure he loved Mrs. Weasley too, but it was so _different_. And sometimes he thought he loved Mrs. Weasley more, and it scared him because he knew family should be first. So confusing…

* * *

Master Draco was always eager to tell Dobby about the parties his parents took him to, but for some reason the boy was fidgety tonight and couldn't seem to focus on anything. After Draco lost his train of thought for the ninth time in five minutes; Dobby finally gave up trying to keep the conversation going and focused on getting his young master ready for bed, an exhausting task tonight. However, it was finally accomplished. Dobby had dimmed the lights a little and was picking up Draco's toys when the boy sat up in bed and demanded a story.

Dobby looked up, startled and apologetic. "Dobby is sorry, but Dobby is not knowing any stories."

Draco scowled. "Then read one!"

"Dobby…Dobby cannot. Dobby does not know how to read. Master…" Dobby glanced anxiously over his shoulder, half expecting Master to be standing behind him, arms crossed, and changed what he was about to say, "Dobby is not thinking that it is good for house elves to be reading."

Draco stared, his earlier mood melting away. "You don't know how to _read_?" He hesitated and his own eyes flickered to the closed door, then turned back to the house elf. The silence stretched on, then Draco broke it by hopping off the bed. He strode importantly over to the bookshelf, carefully selected a book, then settled down on the floor with his back propped against his bed. At Draco's wave, Dobby carefully ventured over and squatted down next to his young master. Draco pointed at the page.

"This is the letter 'A'. It has two sounds: short a, which sounds like ahh, and long A, which sounds like…"

* * *

Hagrid _had_ planned for that day's riding lesson to involve a short flight, the twins' first ever on a thestral. The notion was quickly shattered by the twins themselves, who were drowning each other out as they both tried to tell Hagrid about something at the tops of their lungs. Professor McGonagall, who was crossing the remaining stretch of the lawn rather slower than the boys had, looked as though she was trying not to laugh.

A word finally got through. "Tickets? Tha's nice, tickets to what?"


	33. World Cup, Version 1986

* * *

Well, it was one heck of a break, but I'm back. I seem to recall apologizing in the last few chapters about how long it was taking me to write, but it feels like sorry doesn't even begin to cover a hiatus of over a year. I've got a new job, one that isn't _nearly_ so stressful, and school's out for the summer, so there had _better_ be several more chapters following this one in the upcoming months.

I'd like to say thanks for all of you who left reviews and PMs asking where I was and when I'd be coming back, you kept me from forgetting and the guilt definitely helped me sit down and hammer something out. Your kind words also helped a great deal during an emotionally difficult time and I thank you for that. :-) I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you have the last thirty two. MoriasDepths

* * *

Cats…toads...owls. Nowhere did the Hogwarts rules book mention anything about dogs. Percy frowned at the crisp pages, then sat back to consider. It was tempting to simply show up at Hogwarts with Rover in tow, but if the professors decided to forbid the dog out of hand, there would be no appealing the decision. Besides, Mum probably wouldn't allow Rover to go unless she had some kind of assurance that it would be all right. A small pet like Ron and Ginny's puffskein, Bludger, would not be a problem, but a dog the size of Rover? Of course, Percy was only ten still and technically had a year to figure out what to do, but why waste time that might be needed later?

Percy reached down absently and rubbed the snoozing dog's head behind the ears, then flipped back to the beginning of the book. One of the things he had learned from his friends at school was that when you needed permission for something, you picked someone ranked high enough they felt they could make a decision, but not someone from the absolute top of the ladder. That way, if they said 'no', there were still people to appeal to. And while there might be some things you didn't have to ask permission for if you were sufficiently bold and could lie (_or better yet; tell the truth, just not __all of it_) with a straight face, bringing a large dog to school was not one of them.

* * *

Two neat rows of names and positions, from the Board of Trustees to the castle caretaker, stretched down the page. Even as Percy ran his finger down the list, a name filled itself in and gold lettering informed him that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position had just been filled. Definitely not a good pick there, a new professor would have little authority. The members of the Board of Trustees were likewise discarded. That would be going rather a bit far up. He hesitated over the Heads of Houses, but finally bit his lip and moved on. He was _fairly_ sure he knew which House he was going to, but he couldn't be _completely_ positive. Deputy Headmistress was slightly further up the chain than he'd like, but there didn't seem to be a better choice.

Percy bit his lip once more, then pulled a sheet of parchment from the neat stack to one side and started writing. He phrased it very carefully, polite, but subtly taking for granted that Rover would be accompanying him to Hogwarts and they simply needed to decide what extra restrictions might apply.

Finishing, he carefully folded the parchment and set it aside. Rule number two: never send a letter until you'd let it sit for a day and reviewed it at _least_ once more. Bill's voice floated up through the window. "Hey Percy, we need a sixth for quidditch! You coming?" The door slammed downstairs and he could hear Ginny's strident voice raised in a tirade about something, probably about not being allowed to play.

Charlie's sunburned face glanced up at the window as Percy leaned out to accept the invitation. "What in the world are you doing inside on a day like this, Perce?"

Despite himself, Percy couldn't help a smile. "Oh, just some work for school."

Charlie's mouth dropped open in horror. "During the _summer hols_?"

* * *

It had taken Terry a while to figure out how to make his chair lay back and stretch out like Gran's had when she'd fallen asleep a while ago, but he and James had finally done it. The two boys lay on their stomachs next to each other and watched the furious quidditch war going on high over the huge stadium. So far Uganda was winning, but China wasn't far behind and both sides were flying hard. This was the first night of the World Cup and Terry felt like he could never get enough. He'd seen the school games and Gran had taken him to several matches around England, but this…this…it filled him with an emotion he didn't have the words to describe, excited and wowed and…actually, maybe wow did describe it pretty well after all.

Terry whipped his head around as five of the players shot from one side of the stadium to the other. Next to him, he felt James doing the same. The shrinking, but still almost-full moon lit up the night skies even as the stadium lit up a small potion of the tall New Zealand mountains. Terry had been scared that maybe he'd miss the match because he had to change, but Camden and Gran had quickly assured him and James that there wouldn't be a problem. _After_ they'd figured out why he'd been moping, anyway. James hadn't been any help, it hadn't occurred to him that the werewolf night and the World Cup were about the same time. Sometimes Terry had to wonder where his brother's priorities were.

His neck was starting to ache from staring up at the sky, so he rolled over onto his back. As he did, he got a look at Gran and Camden and quickly elbowed James in the ribs. James looked over with an irritated expression but started giggling when he saw what Terry had. Both the adults were asleep and Gran had her head on Camden's shoulder.

The boys shared a look. The adults had been spending a _lot_ of time around each other and Terry was starting to wonder if they were going to get married the way Jenny and David from the Dragon Hall Blue Quidditch Team were going to next year. Terry wasn't at all sure how he felt about the idea. He liked Camden and all, and he knew that Camden hadn't been married to his old wife for a really long time, longer than he and James had been alive; but…but…

Oh well, it wasn't like Gran and Camden had been talking about marriage or even snogging each other like David and Jenny were, maybe it wouldn't happen after all. Terry made a face at the thought and turned his attention back to the Cup. He'd just have to see what happened.

* * *

Vincent had always loved quidditch, but five days of sitting in the stands had gotten boring pretty quickly. Mum and Dad had finally given up on him sitting still and begun taking turns watching after him during the day. Today it was Mum's turn, and Vincent really wished it was Dad's instead. Dad always had his radio nearby so he could listen to the game, but he kept sitting down with him to read and play and stuff. Mum did that too, but she kept getting distracted. Right now, she'd taken him to an open area next to the stadium and was standing with a group of other adults, who were all watching some big pair of omnoculars that were showing the game. There were several other kids there too, but most of them were alot older than him and the only two that were his age he didn't know. Besides, they were beating a toy bludger back and forth and they didn't look like they wanted to play with anybody else.

One of the two boys made a wild swing and missed the bludger, sending it bouncing a good distance across the grass. Both of them turned and ran to get it, but came to a sudden stop when one of the bigger kids snatched it up and stood there smirking.

"That's ours," the slightly smaller of the pair said, planting his hands on his hips.

"Not anymore it isn't," the older boy said, "You dropped it, so it's mine now." Three of the kid's friends closed in so they were standing a little behind him.

Both of the two boys, '_were they brothers?'_ Vincent wondered, shot a quick glance at the group of adults, but they were all whooping and gasping over something on the omnoculars. No help there.

"Besides," the older kid went on, he seemed to be enjoying himself, "You don't know how to play properly anyway; you're too small. We do, so we should have it."

Apparently that made it personal. Both of the younger boys stiffened and glared. "We're _way_ better than you; give it back or I'll call Gran!"

The only result was laughter. Feeling a bit annoyed himself; Vincent marched over and snatched the bludger before quickly dashing out of reach. Startled shouts rose, and Vincent dodged a grab by one of the older kids a second before the other two boys threw themselves into the paths of the pursuers. He quickly tossed the bludger to the larger of his two allies, the brunet; then had to dodge yet another swipe from the older boys, who were only just realizing that he no longer had the ball.

The bludger changed hands a couple more times and things were getting exciting when suddenly a new girl who'd just come up shouted out, "Wide open here!" Vincent hesitated a split second; then threw it to her right before one of the other kids plowed into him. Things got wilder from there.

By the time Vincent and his new friends, who turned out to be named Terry and James, got tired and quit playing an hour later; there were almost twenty kids playing keepaway and the game looked as though it was going to last as long as the quidditch game inside the stadium. But that was alright, because it turned out the twins' tent wasn't that far away from his parents' tent, which meant that they could get together and play any time they wanted. _And_ it turned out that they lived at Hogwarts and had a pet spider, sorta, which was really interesting. He wondered if Mum and Dad would let him play with these kids after the World Cup was over they'd all gone home. He hoped so.

* * *

James sat on a rock next to Camden's tent and just looked around at the faintly moonlit mountains. On the slopes below him, and if he turned his head, above as well, brightly colored tents glowed like fairies amid the deep misty shadows of the forest. Fireworks and bonfires blazed here and there as people celebrated China's win, and loud voices mixed with cheers. The week-and-a-half-long match had finally ended late that afternoon within two hours of China and Uganda being able to put their Seekers back into the match.

He laughed in glee at the memory of the two players; they'd been flying right next to each other when a bludger had swished overhead. Zaki Mubiru of Uganda had apparently flinched, collided with China, and they'd both hit the ground in the most amazing crash he'd ever seen. China's seeker had been hurt worse, but when Uganda had said their seeker was well enough to go back in, Lee Hsien Xiuxiu had immediately declared herself to be fine as well, so that Uganda not get the advantage. The battle that had followed had been…James had to stop and think for a second to remember the word Gran had kept using, _epic_. Ya, epic, that was it. He wanted to be able to fly as well as she could. She'd outflown everything the other team had thrown at her to try and take her out again; and when she and Zaki had both been closing in on the snitch and that bludger had come out of nowhere, she'd somehow launched herself upwards almost off the broom in a desperate bid for the snitch. The crash had put her back in the hospital again, but she'd given China the win. Quite a few of the cheers and toasts he could hear from the campsites surrounding him were to her.

Gran poked her head out of the now-dark tent. "James, you need to come back inside. We're getting an early start tomorrow."

Back home to Dragon Hall. He swallowed hard. While he knew perfectly well that he and Terry would be sound asleep, thanks to Akira's nasty-tasting potion, while Gran took them through the Floo-Bonfire; just thinking about the flames shooting up into the sky made him wish they didn't have to travel at all. The really bad thing was that there wasn't anything he could do about it, unless he wanted to stay here the rest of his life. Gran would never let him do that, though.

He was pretty sure he was going to have nightmares tonight. Maybe if he stayed awake they wouldn't be able to get him?

"James?"

He scrambled down, not wanting anybody in the tent to see him and know he was a scaredy-cat. "I'm coming, Gran."

* * *

Jeremy licked suddenly dry lips as he carefully removed the envelope containing the results of his O.W.L.s from the leg of the tawny owl. One knot confounded him and the bird gave him a disgusted look as he struggled to undo it. Perched on the edge of Jeremy's bed, Saleem had already detached his letter and was sitting with his head bowed in prayer. Of the three of them, Kristin seemed the calmest and was already slitting her envelope with fingers that barely trembled at all. From somewhere below in the house, Jeremy could hear his younger sister laughing at something their mother said.

Jeremy finally freed his envelope and slowly turned it over and over, barely noticing as the owl took off through the window. Kristin looked up and gave the boys a superior look. "Neither of you have opened them _yet_?"

"Kristin, please," Jeremy begged. "I'll get to it, just give me a second." Behind him there was a rustling sound, then Saleem released a deep sigh of relief and fell backwards onto the bed. Refusing to be distracted, Jeremy finally opened the parchment and stared down at the letters there. The whoop that escaped surprised him as much as it did his friends.

"Lemme see, lemme see!" Kristin exclaimed she snatched the parchment away from him. "An O in Potions! Oh, Jeremy, congratulations! Wait, _what_? _How_ did you manage an _E_ in History of Magic?"

Saleem, now sitting up again and grinning broadly, slapped his best friend on the back. "Look out Aurors, here comes Jer! Looks like all that studying paid off."

"Yeah," Jeremy managed to get out as he carefully pried his results from Kristin's grasp and delicately smoothed the parchment. "How'd you two do?"

Kristin shrugged. "Well enough. No O's, but a good collection of E's and an A. Got a D in Transfiguration, though. Told you I went to pieces on the exam." She glanced ruefully down at the paper, then shrugged and tossed it onto the nearby desk. "Probably shouldn't have lost my head in the middle and tried to transfigure myself into a turtle so I could hide. Well, I don't need Transfiguration to train security trolls and I _did_ do well in Charms."

The boys roared in laughter. Saleem finally calmed down enough to wave his own parchment. "O in Potions and Arithmancy, the other important ones are E's, and the rest are A's. Hey Jer, you never answered! How _did_ you get an E in History of Magic?"

It was Jeremy's turn to look rueful. "I will say this, that's got to be a low E at best; I didn't do _that_ well. The test started and I stared down at that first question…"

"The one about the goblin riots?" Kristin interrupted.

"Yeah, that one. I was staring at it and trying to remember something, _anything_ from my notes aside from Hobran the Facesmasher's name; you remember, the rebellion's leader? Nothing was coming back, and suddenly I heard Filch's voice in my head talking about the riots that that werewolf girl…"

"Aethelflaed…" Saleem breathed. "Wait, you mean she was _real_?"

"I dunno, I…" Jeremy shugged helplessly. "…I guess she _must_ have been. Anyway, I figured what did I have to lose? So I wrote down what he told us and by the time I got to the next question I was starting to remember things from my notes again. But you know, there's a _lot_ of things and people he's told us about in those stories that kept cropping up while I was writing. I may have to reread that textbook."

"So does that mean you're going to take History of Magic again this year?" Saleem asked slyly.

"NO!" came the prompt answer.

* * *

Nowadays Dobby could see why reading wasn't something a good house elf was supposed to know. Through the too-short summer, Master Draco had gotten Dobby through his letters and Dobby was now able to read short words and could get through some books now, even though it took a very long time to sound everything out. He and Draco now read in whispers to each other in the evenings while Dobby was supposedly putting Draco to bed. _Those_ books were fascinating, but it was Master Lucius' library that set Dobby's mind on fire.

There were nights when he couldn't sleep because of all the new thoughts and ideas chasing each other frantically around his brain. So many books, so many subjects. And some of them, the ones in the crates in the basement, those were surely ones a house elf should not be reading. Master Lucius liked to keep up with what the scum of the wizarding world believed in and wrote about. He would occasionally obtain books from Dobby knew not where, glance through them once, then toss them at the one empty shelf in his bookcase. The book would vanish, and as Dobby had reason to know, would reappear downstairs in the dusty crates to be disposed of later. Quietly filching one or two of the books at a time was surprisingly easy. The hardest part was keeping the guilt off his face when he was around the elder Malfoys.

Dobby tossed a quick glance around the small cupboard he was crouching in before turning reverently back to the leather-bound book he was studying.


	34. Choices

Lots of boring plot stuff in this chapter, make sure you bring lots of coffee and/or energy drinks! ;-P

* * *

"Where _is_ Akira, anyway? I haven't seen her all summer." Minerva took a cautious sip of Camden's homegrown tea, made from the flower buds of one of the carnivorous plants he had in his collection. It actually wasn't bad, as long as she didn't think too hard about where it'd come from.

Camden sighed and set his cup down to stare off over the moors the veranda overlooked. "Haven't seen much of her, myself. Always with her beau somewhere." Suddenly realizing how that had sounded, he quickly amended his words. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she's found someone; particularly after what happened the first time around. I do miss her, though." He sighed again. "You heard she moved in with Alec when he got transferred and had to move somewhere in York? She hasn't said anything yet about leaving the clinic here, but I'm sure it's coming."

More than a little startled, Minerva leaned forward. "She's moved in with him? I do hope she's not taking this too fast."

Camden received a frown as he took a bite of his scone right before answering. Minerva happened to know it was a habit he'd picked up in boyhood to annoy his mother, but he was certainly old enough to break himself of it. "I, as well. Especially as they've…"

"Are you going to get married?"

Whatever skills the twins might lack in subtlety and tact, Minerva mused, they certainly made up for in timing. She gave her wand a quick flick to help Camden out with his choking fit, then turned to the boys. At least it hadn't been _her_ with the mouthful, for a change.

Terry stared right back at obstinately. James' eyes were flickering from face to face, but he looked no less interested. "_Are_ you?" Terry repeated.

Finding herself oddly reluctant to answer, Minerva stalled for time. "How did you get _that_ idea?"

"Well…" he was suddenly interested in the tabletop, and it shook slightly as he kicked a leg. "Well, you're always around each other and talking and laughing and…and…stuff." He thought for a moment. "And you're always happy and hug each other when we come here each summer and you were talking a lot while we were at the Cup."

Camden hastily held his hands up in the age-old gesture of 'I'm staying out of this'. He received a glare for his troubles, which bounced right off his sudden mock-wounded expression.

"Well," she started, "You two are happy to see Neville when he comes over, right? And you're always talking to Argus and those three from Hufflepuff and all your friends here, right?" Two nods. "Camden and I are good friends and have been for a very long time. People who are going to marry do some of these things too, but it doesn't _necessarily_ mean anything."

"Oh," came Terry's response. He tilted his head to one side to think about it. "Ok," and his voice was noticeably more cheerful. "Come on, James, let's go play gobstones." Both boys dashed off the veranda, worries forgotten.

There was a long, awkward silence, during which Minerva found she couldn't quite make herself look in Camden's direction. Perhaps it was just as well, considering how her cheeks were flaming. Camden finally broke the invisible wall.

"Well, are we?" The joking tone contrasted rather greatly with his nervous gaze and the way he kept shifting in his chair. Minerva brushed imaginary crumbs off the tabletop while she tried to come up with something…_anything_.

* * *

Almost three months later, neither of them had managed to answer The Question, and it was rather beginning to look as though things were going to settle back into old patterns. There was an edge of flirtation that hadn't been there before, consciously, at least; but both of them seemed uncertain about taking the next step and catapulting themselves into anything more.

There were practical considerations, of course. Neither of them could, or would, give up their responsibilities, whether to the school or to the clan; and they knew each other too well to even suggest the idea. Likewise, a long-range relationship was silently rejected. What was the point if they could only see each other a couple months out of each year?

Minerva sometimes privately thought that the difficulties weren't insurmountable, should they put their minds to it, but both of them were too afraid of the possibilities. Far safer to keep things as they were.

* * *

It seemed to be the season for hard questions, though Minerva knew Augusta Longbottom had always been one to confront an issue. "No, Terry hasn't shown any sign of magic yet. James, yes, but nothing from his brother." Uncomfortable with the implications, she turned it around. "Has Neville…?"

"None," came the grim reply. "Algie's been trying to get Neville to show _something_, but so far he hasn't had any luck. Not even when he shoved Neville off the Blackpool Pier last summer. It's rather beginning to look as though he didn't inherit anything from Frank or Alice." Though still unspoken, the word 'squib' hung in the air between them.

"Magic-wise, perhaps, but he's certainly gotten other things from them!" Minerva protested. "Just look at his garden!" The sound of three young voices singing an old folk song reminded her of something else, and she added, "Or his voice…"

Both women fell silent, listening. Neither James nor Terry had any musical ability whatsoever, though that didn't stop them. James was perhaps slightly worse off; at least his brother had _some_ sense of key. By contrast, Neville's high voice floated over the other two's like some angelic vision. He sounded so much like his father…

_Years before, Frank Longbottom had come to Minerva asking permission to put on a performance in the Great Hall that evening. She'd granted it, and he'd gone up on the teacher's podium and sung his heart out. He'd been playing around with transfiguration and charms since he was thirteen, which had landed him in the hospital wing several times, but setbacks had never dampened his enthusiasm. At seventeen, his vocal range was incredible and he wasn't afraid to transfigure himself _while_ singing, which resulted in effects Minerve had had no idea could come from the human throat. _

_Alice Brawley had sat through the entire performance with wide eyes fixed on her boyfriend and white-knuckled hands clasped over her mouth, terrified that something would go wrong. Frank, by contrast, had been the image of confidence and his exuberant gestures betrayed pure joy. He was singing solo, but had long ago figured out some way of generating multiple sounds at once, so that he was singing his own accompaniment as well; accompaniment that often sounded more like instruments than a voice. _

_It was a performance like no other, and everybody in the Great Hall was leaning forward, spellbound. After nearly an hour, he'd stopped, bowed low, and announced that this would be the last song. At the protests, he grinned widely and shook his head, jokingly reminding them that he hadn't eaten yet; causing a massive reaction as people immediately began offering to save him some dinner; until Frank finally pointed out that it was best he stop before he went and strained his voice. The Great Hall finally accepted that, though there was visible reluctance. _

_He'd saved the best for last, a song that started out with a solo voice, then picked up a second chasing the first, and a third, all dashing after one another in an echo effect. When he finally finished and took his bows, the applause shook the hall. _

Minerva shook herself and the memories slowly faded; Frank's powerful voice fading away into his son's lighter one. Augusta glanced over. "What's wrong?"

"Just remembering the night Frank sang for the Great Hall. I found out later that James Potter put him up to it on a bet." Frank's joyful face seemed to hover before her as he sprang from the stage and sprinted over to the Hufflepuff table to catch up Alice and swing her about. "Potter was cheering as loud as anybody, if he cared he lost those ten Galleons, I never heard about it."

The other woman nodded. "I heard it was quite impressive, I wouldn't have minded having heard it. A pity." She considered for a moment, then went on. "Yes, Neville's voice does sound rather like Frank's at that age, but having a talented voice won't get you very far unless you have something else to back it up. If you remember, even Frank used magic to enhance his natural talents. Neville may simply be late showing, but quite frankly I think it's time I started looking at alternatives in case he never does. If you like, I could pass along what I find out," with a significant glance at Terry.

'She means well,' Minerva told herself firmly, 'she is _not_ trying to be offensive.' Regardless, she had to force down the anger the suggestion caused. And yet, she remembered with a chill, she might still have to take Augusta's advice. The twins did have a muggle father, and might well…a shock went through her as she remembered. Terry did _not_ in fact have even one magical parent. The closest Petunia Dursley had come to magic had been through her sister; and Vernon Dursley had been…well, definitely a muggle there too. Terry might well not be magical because there had been nothing there to inherit in the first place.

Augusta was watching her closely. "Perhaps not yet. But if you ever change your mind, my offer still stands."

The cheerfully blazing fireplace was still there, but Minerva felt as chilled as though she'd been in the raging blizzard outside. It took an effort to keep from snatching Terry up and holding him close, safe from danger; though it wasn't like she'd be able to protect him from this, in any case. All she could do was watch. And hope.

* * *

He wasn't sure just when, but somewhere along the line Argus had stopped thinking of his eight young pupils as brats. He still used the term when talking to them, and during the day he and they passed one another in the corridors as though nothing had ever changed, but truth was, _everything_ had.

Tonight, eight youngsters and a treeclimber sat wherever there were a few empty inches of floor space, or in the case of James and Terry, perched on top of a row of filing cabinets. The original student trio of Jeremy, Saleem, and Kristin had expanded when a couple of their close friends and roommates had started wondering where they vanished to all the time. One more had been added to the group when an intrepid second-year Gryffindor had joined in one of the late-night castle battlegrounds. Three detentions in a row hadn't deterred him, and Argus had finally snarled and accepted him on condition that if he _ever_ let anything slip, he'd be cleaning the toilets for the rest of his Hogwarts days.

Sometimes only the twins were able to make it down, but tonight all eight youngsters had shown up. One of the most epic battles in the short history of the group had abruptly turned into stealth practice when Snape, in nightrobe and slippers, had appeared out of nowhere. While nowhere near the hardest struggle Argus had ever had, speaking with the Potions Master while keeping a straight face throughout, certainly hadn't been easy. Particularly so when Snape suddenly wheeled and paused to listen to some sound Argus certainly hadn't caught. Snape had spent a minute listening, then had slowly moved down the corridor, peering from side to side. At least six of Argus' of group had been hiding nearby, but he'd found none of them; finally pouncing on a Ravenclaw fifth-year _also _in the area, who'd apparently been attempting to sneak down to the kitchens.

Right now, a lively (and whispered!) conversation was going on as the night's events were discussed and giggled over, while the scents of metal polish, varnish, and rust remover filled the room. All was well.

* * *

Wisps of purple vapor and an enraged Madame Pince pursued Minerva as she hastily shoved the three boys out of the library and slammed the door on Irma's enraged swipes. Neville at least had the good grace to look guilty. James and Terry, on the other hand, were laughing so hard they could barely breathe. Minerva opened her mouth, choked, and had to close it again.

She took a moment to calm herself down, then leveled a basilisk stare at the boys. "New rule. If an idea makes you giggle longer than ten seconds, you are _not _allowed to do it!"

* * *

Terry hugged the shrub he was huddled behind and tried not to listen to Akira and Alec hissing at least other. Bad enough he hadn't seen Akira in _ages_ and now she'd shown up for his and James' birthday, but was too busy arguing with her boyfriend to play. He'd known something was wrong pretty early this morning when Akira'd only been there an hour or so, Alec had started standing near the door and trying to catch Akira's eye. She had kept pretending to be busy talking to Gran and everybody else; but Terry knew she'd noticed Alec, her voice would always get louder and she laughed more but there was something wrong with it. One time she'd come back from the toilet and James had whispered to him that she'd been crying, look, her eyelashes are damp.

They'd all gone outside soon after lunch, and apparently Alec had taken his chance to get Akira off to one side. Terry had wandered over to see what was going on and rather wished he hadn't.

"You can leave if you want, but I haven't seen the twins in months and I happen to miss them!" She whirled and stomped back off in the direction of the party, pausing only to snap over her shoulder, "Don't wait up." She didn't notice Terry even though she passed close enough that her leg brushed against him in passing

Alec moaned softly and pressed his fists against his eyes, looking as though it was his turn to want to cry. After a long minute he seemed to finally reach a decision and turned to walk in the direction Akira had gone. Like her, he didn't notice Terry when he walked past.


	35. and Consequences

Akira had used to be one of Terry's friends, but she spent too much time these days staring into space or wiping away what she thought were unnoticed tears. Ever since her fight with Alec at Terry's birthday, she'd been coming around a lot and often stayed most of the day. She kept saying it was so she could see him and James, and she _was_ babysitting them a lot, but if so, why was she always sitting around moping? He'd asked Gran, but she'd just sighed and looked sad and said he was too young to understand.

And then last night Akira had shown up in tears saying that she'd left Alec and would be staying in the Three Broomsticks for a while. Gran had been going to let Hagrid babysit today, but Akira had insisted that she wanted to; that it would give her something else to think about, whatever that meant. They'd wandered around for a while, then gone over to the big field on the outskirts of Hogsmeade where everybody went to fly. Nobody was there today though, probably because it was smelling as though it was going to rain soon. Gran would have hurried them back home or to Hogsmeade at the first sign of a cloud, but Akira had just sat down on a rock and didn't seem to notice. He rather hoped she didn't, he liked playing in the rain and mud but wasn't usually allowed to. The thought of the forbidden delight wasn't as exciting today, though; as there were other, bigger, problems.

* * *

Neville kicked a rock and sighed. "Think Akira'll mind if we ride our brooms?"

All three of them turned to eye their sitter, who wasn't looking as though she was going to move anytime soon. "Dunno," Terry finally said. "She might." There was another pause.

"What if we stayed really near the ground?" Neville finally suggested. "Then maybe it'd be all right." They edged towards their brooms, gingerly at first, then more boldly as she showed no signs of…well, anything. There was a nervous pause when they finally got there, then James snatched up his broom with a triumphant shout that transformed into a yelp as all three of them received a shock and red sparks cascaded down.

"I'm sorry…we just wanted to ride… I was going to stay near the ground… we didn't mean to…" the three of them were blurting as Akira shrieked and sprang from her rock.

"What _happened_?" she gasped as she dashed over. "Are you all right, what'd you…touch…" She suddenly went still, her face turned towards the man who'd just walked into the field. "Alec."

Neville was sure he heard a low moan before she started off towards her former boyfriend. "Alec, now isn't a good time. I pro…"

There was a flash and she crumpled to the ground.

* * *

He couldn't move, couldn't think. All James could do was stare at Akira's motionless body and at the man standing over her. Somebody was whimpering nearby, but he couldn't turn to see who; he was aware that his head was tilted up to expose his throat, but somehow he didn't think Alec would know what it meant, much less spare him. The fatal wand whipped through the air and Akira vanished, replaced by a small metal cage that appeared where she'd been. There was a soft thump as Terry's knees buckled, startling Alec into looking up. Sunken eyes focused on the trio.

"You wretches!" he screamed, tears pouring down his face and voice demented beyond anything James had ever heard. "Monstrous wicked little demons; how DARE you?! You took her away from me, she was going to leave me and because of YOU! HOW DARE YOU!" Someone must have peed their pants; James could smell the sharp odor. It was really stupid to be thinking about that right now, but he was so scared he couldn't focus on anything else. He could almost hear Argus' voice from a million years ago, but couldn't quite make out what he was saying.

_The day may come…wishes you harm… _Something else…what was it…?

"MONSTERS!" Alec screamed again. "Monsters…" and his voice trailed off. He stared down at them, his eyes flickering from face to face. "Come here!"

James' legs yanked him forward one jerky step before he could stop himself. Alec snarled, sounding so wolf-like that James automatically whined back, then the man whipped his wand through the air in a Summoning Charm. There was a second of confusion as the boys collapsed against his legs, then Alec bent down and yanked them to their feet. He grabbed both Terry and Neville with one arm; the other went like an iron bar across James' chest before Alec stumbled into a spin and crushing darkness replaced the cloudy field.

…_not going to worry about how much he hurts you…_

Yes, Alec's grip was hurting him horribly but it was going to get worse…he was going to kill them, the way he'd just killed Akira, and there wasn't anybody there to save them…and the blackness was starting to spit them out…

…_and…neither…should…you._

Light exploded around them as they popped into deep grass next to an abandoned village. Alec staggered and his hold tightened even more as he fought to keep his balance. Fear flashed in an instant to rage and James let out a squall as he twisted and sunk his teeth into Alec's arm.

Blood spurted into James' mouth and Alec let out an almighty howl that turned into a gasp as Terry eeled around and slammed his fist into his captor's crotch, who collapsed to the ground, clutching himself. James turned and ran before Alec could recover, his brother's pounding footsteps right behind.

Weeds grasped at his legs, hiding holes and trying to trip him, but James kept going; running faster than he ever had in his life. He had no idea where he was or why the decaying buildings were empty, but that wasn't important, all that mattered right now was getting away. The sound of Alec screeching out some _really_ rude words from somewhere far behind only spurred him on.

The stream of words cut off suddenly, then the sound of a scream echoed through the buildings for a split second before being cut off in turn. James slammed to a halt and was bowled over by Terry. "What…" James started, before being distracted. _Something_ over between those two houses had just moved.

"No, no, no, no," Terry repeated frantically as he backpedalled. The creature moved slowly out into the overgrown street, but James had been around Hagrid's pets enough to recognize stalking when he saw it. He edged backwards, matching Terry's careful, painfully-slow movements. Frantic eyes swept the area, but there wasn't anyplace to hide, and that…thing…looked as though five legs would definitely outrun two. It hissed angrily at their retreat and lowered its front legs so that the face on top of the abdomen could see them better. It didn't seem to have a head, just a body and those thick hairy legs.

James kept backing up because there wasn't anything else _to_ do. His eyes were fixed on the rotting wooden ladder propped against one of the houses, but there was no way of getting to it without running past the monster. He was going to have to distract it somehow…give Terry a chance to… A hairy shape shot from around another house and slammed into the original monster before it could stop, knocking both of them to the ground. _Nownownow…_"GO!" James screamed as he took off. The wood trembled as he grabbed it, the ladder was barely standing under its _own_ weight but what choice did they have?

He could hear cracking and the wood was falling apart right before his eyes; his vision swam for a second and when it cleared the cracks were even worse but the ladder was still holding up somehow… Ahead of him Terry's heels scrambled onto the roof and James followed, right as one of the monsters lunged after its vanishing meal. The ladder had held up under the twins, but this was far too much for it, and it collapsed into kindling.

A face popped into his field of vision and James almost fell backwards over the edge until he recognized his brother's white face. "We made it," he whispered. It didn't feel real somehow.

"Yah," Terry agreed. There was a pause. James felt the blood drain from his own face as he realized what was wrong.

"Where's Neville?"

Terry's eyes widened and he spun around frantically. "He was right behind us; _I thought he was right behind us_!" He whirled again without waiting for an answer. "NEVILLE, NEVILLE!"

"TERRY!" came an answering scream, which sounded close to tears. "Where are you?" There was a soft thudding as Neville dashed into view…and caught sight of the monster which was still at the base of the house the twins were standing atop. There was a second of surprise, then the thing seemed to decide it wasn't taking chances with this latest offering and hurled itself at Neville. The boy flung his arms up, but it never reached him; instead bouncing off…nothing. Screaming with rage, it leapt back up and tried again but couldn't break through the invisible shield. Terry was making a strange noise in his throat, like he wanted to scream but couldn't. Neville was laughing hysterically for some reason; sounding as insane as Alec had earlier.

The laughter cut off as three more of the monsters edged into the square, eyeing one another suspiciously and hissing whenever one got too close to another. Two of them had blood on their fur. James knew without being told that Neville's shield wasn't going to hold up under a combined assault. He ran for the edge of the roof with the half-formed idea of diving off and piling into the monsters; of giving Neville a chance to run for it.

James was almost to the edge when there was a crunch and his left leg smashed through the shingles up to the thigh. _NO! NO, NO, __**NO**__!_ This wasn't supposed to happen, he needed to get down there NOW, but he couldn't pull his leg free. He scrabbled desperately, but nothing changed; and down below the monsters were starting to close in. James was still trying to wriggle free but he couldn't take his eyes off his friend, who had frozen in panic. _NO! Neville, no! Run, something, anything; _WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!_,_ _THEY'RE COMING…!"_

He stopped breathing as Neville floated into the air. It had to be a dream, there was no way that could have happened; he didn't dare look down because if he did the dream would vanish and he'd see his best friend under a pile of monsters…don't look down, don't look at…Terry…

Terry stood at the edge of the roof, holding a wand aimed directly at Neville. "Wingardium Leviosa," James whispered, and glanced down before he could help himself. He'd yanked his gaze up again a second later, but paused. Something… He _made_ himself look this time. Three monsters clustered below the hovering figure that was _not_ lying dead on the ground. Even as he watched one of them made an especially high leap, grazing Neville's shoe. Terry yanked the wand farther up, but Neville wobbled and almost fell out of the sky, making Terry grab the wand with both hands to steady it.

A woman's scream cut through the air. "OH MY GOD! Everybody, get over here _NOW_!" A red-headed woman on a broom carefully maneuvered herself next to Neville and tugged him onto it in front of her. Two other people zoomed into view and pulled up short.

Their shock was brief; and seconds later one rather burly man was hauling Terry up, while another flew over to James, eyed the roof and decided to stay on his broom. "Come on lad," he coaxed, reaching out a large hand. There was a blinding stab of pain in his leg when he moved and James screamed. The man swore loudly and took a closer look. He was partway through cutting James' leg out of the hole when yet another man flew up.

"Body over there. Adult, I think," He swallowed hard, "pretty big mess. I've got a shield over it."

"Not now!" the woman exclaimed, pointing at the boys. "I don't need a description, not in front of them." She glanced down at Neville, who had fainted, then flew over to the twins. "Was there anybody else with you?" she asked gently. James glanced sideways at Terry, but his brother was staring over the rooftops with blank eyes. "Was there anybody else?" the woman asked again, a bit more firmly this time.

Oh, right; he was supposed to answer. His voice wasn't working, but he managed to shake his head. It sounded like they'd found Alec, and both Terry and Neville were right here. "Nobody else", he finally managed.

"I'll check anyway," a young man volunteered, the only one who didn't have a child perched on his broom. The woman nodded; then turned back.

"Hold on, this is going to be a bit scary." Without further warning, she and all the others dismounted. James' and Terry's screams mingled as the group twisted in midair and vanished.

* * *

**A.N. **For a chapter that I've pretty-near DREAMED about for over two years, it certainly took awhile to set down. At least this means it won't be bugging me anymore.

* * *


	36. What Doesn't Kill Us

It was a scene that had acted itself out thousands of times before, and would doubtless happen again many, many times before Argus Filch passed his mop and bucket on to a successor. A third-year Slytherin whom had been caught attempting to booby-trap Moaning Myrtle's toilet, apparently in the hopes that the bratty ghost would get blamed for the mess, presently stood on the other side of Argus' desk watching a detention slip get filled out. "Crime," the caretaker snarled as he wrote, "befou..." The little drama took a sudden unexpected turn as the dead fireplace behind the desk flared up.

Much to his surprise, the caller was _not_ one of the professors calling, rather, the head in the fireplace turned out to be a young black man Argus vaguely recalled as having been a Ravenclaw some eight years previously. "Er, Mr. Filch?"

Though Argus' narrowed eyes were anything but encouraging, the former student apparently reminded himself that he was now a grown man and beyond childish fears, and visibly pulled himself together. "I'm from the Isle of Drear Research Center and..."

"Not interested," Argus interrupted firmly as he reached for the extinguisher.

"Wait, wait!" the other frantically shouted. "I'm not selling anything! I just wanted to know if you knew a Terry and James Ev..."

He suddenly had the old man's full attention. "James and Terry? What's happened!? Are they all right?" Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the _very_ interested Slytherin and barked, "Dismissed!" The boy weighed the options of learning more about this fascinating conversation or escaping with his hide intact. Self-preservation won out and the door was flung open so hard it rebounded and nearly knocked the boy over.

"Well, they are, for the most part anyway... Er, you _are_ their father then? I have to confirm...for the record, you se..."

"For the _most_ part?" Argus demanded. He seemed to recall that the twins and their friend Neville had set out this morning accompanied by that black-haired Scottish girl. Just what had happened that she wasn't around to answer questions? "Actually, forget that, what's your fireplace?"

The other man had actual sweat dripping from his forehead now. A little desperately, he asked yet again, "I can't give that ou...well, their parents...are or aren't you their father?"

"Hardly," came the grim answer as Argus folded his arms and assumed his best intimidating expression. "Just a friend of the family. Now, _what fireplace are you at?"_

"Wizard's Den, but..."

"Finally," Argus snapped as he seized the extinguisher. Mrs. Norris mewed anxiously and hopped onto the desk as Argus paused to pull himself together. "Yes, my sweet; we'll be there shortly."

A house elf was hastily summoned and ordered to pass the information along to Professor McGonagall, then Argus stumped down the path leading to Hogsmeade. Right outside the gates and tucked a little ways into the woods was a hut. It was barely ever used by professors who were capable of Apparating, but its main attraction to Argus was the carefully maintained fireplace. A pinch of green powder and some firmly pronounced words later, (_he_ much preferred to end up where he'd intended, thank you very much) and Argus stumbled out into a spacious and well-lit, though somewhat untidy, common room. It was somewhat disconcerting to suddenly realize that he had just made his first trip outside Hogwart's walls in over two years.

The nervous young man he'd spoken to hovered uncertainly as he tried to piece together a greeting. Argus ignored him in favor of the voices he could hear coming from the next room, which turned out to be an infirmary. Terry looked up at the footsteps, then gave a strangled cry and launched himself into the old man's arms. James, who had been having his leg bandaged, arrived only a second later. Argus clutched the trembling boys so hard he had a half fear of crushing them, but neither child complained.

The third boy in the room was hanging back, but the way he was standing hinted that he very much wished _he_ had someone to hold him. And for that matter, what was one more child? "Come here," Argus told him roughly, his throat constricted. "Come here, we'll sort all this out later." Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of several Hogwarts graduates staring at him in shock.

There was a sudden commotion in the outer room a second before Professor McGonagall burst into the infirmary. There was a quick shuffling around of boys and a new round of embraces, then one of the residents took retook custody of James to finish binding the nasty gash on his leg.

"What happened? How did the boys get here, wherever this is," Minerva finally demanded.

The middle-aged red-haired woman who seemed to be in charge of the group shook her head. "I was hoping you could shed some light on that," she answered with a slight Norwegian accent. "All I know is that the Apparation Wards triggered, so we popped topside to investigate. We found these two," pointing at the twins, "standing on a rooftop, with this one," the finger moved to Terry, "using a levitation charm to keep _that_ one," now indicating Neville, "off the ground."

Minerva started forward with a gasp. "_Terry_?! Terry, you did magic?"

Mrs. Norris gave an annoyed yowl, which Argus echoed. "Are you seriously telling me you didn't know he could? He's been doing magic for years; surely you've noticed there's not a lock in the castle he can't open!"

"I thought…you mean…I had no idea," she finally finished weakly.

The red-head broke in at this point. "Backing up a little; as I said, we found the three children and one adult, who is…" she hesitated and glanced at the boys, "deceased, I'm sorry to say. We didn't find him or her in time. But do you happen to have any idea why they would have wanted to come _HERE_?"

"Here being…?" Argus enquired harshly.

Her eyes widened. "Oh my goodness, I _am_ sorry. We are currently at the Quintaped Research Station under the Isle of Drear."

And all hell broke loose.

* * *

The twins had been asleep for over an hour now, thanks to a sleeping draught from Poppy, but neither Camden nor Minerva had found themselves able to leave the room. The two of them sat side by side on one of the beds in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Camden with his head in his hands and Minerva with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Minerva wasn't at all sure Camden was listening, but she kept talking in the hopes that her voice might keep him from vanishing entirely into his thoughts. For her, the nightmare was over; ended before she had even known it was happening. For Camden, it was only just beginning.

"Turns out Alec had worked at the Research Center on Drear for a few months about three years ago. Finally left because of a personality conflict with his supervisor, Sigrid. But that's how he knew about the Isle in the first place. It's Unplottable, apparently; newcomers have to Floo in if they want to get there. For safety reasons, there's no entrance from the surface to the Research Center underground. That's why they haven't put Apparation preventers on the island; plus they wanted people to be able to escape in a hurry, if needed. And to avoid accidentally Apparating in next to one of the Quintapeds, the researchers picked up the habit of popping out in midair, then mounting their brooms before they hit the ground." A strained chuckle unexpectedly slipped its way out of Minerva's throat. "I have the feeling the boys are going to want to try that trick out once they're feeling better."

She gave a hopeful glance at Camden, but he didn't move. Only his breathing showed he was alive.

"The creatures, Quintapeds, they're called, are unique to the island. Legend has it that there was an argument between two wizard clans a few centuries ago and that one Transfigured the other into these hairy five-legged monsters, following which, the Transfigurers were wiped out by the Transfigurees. No way of knowing whether it's true or not, but the Quintapeds are unique in that they attack wizards above all else. They may not be the most deadly magical creatures in existence, but they're certainly up there. The Research Station was established both to study the creatures and to rescue anybody who managed to find their way onto the island despite the wards. The boys got _very_ lucky."

"It wasn't only Terry who did magic, by the way; Neville seems to have conjured himself a shield at one point. Augusta had already left by the time one of the twins thought to mention it; I'll have to tell her in the morning. She'll be over the moon," Minerva added thoughtfully.

Still no reaction. Minerva sighed and went on, knowing that he knew all of this already, but not sure of what else to do. Besides, it helped settle her own roiling thoughts, which were only worsening as she slowly neared the topic occupying Camden. She badly wished she'd been there when the Auror had given him the news, but the twins had needed her. By the time Poppy had put the boys to sleep, her old friend had fallen into a reverie; which nothing seemed to shake.

"From what the Auror and I managed to get out from the boys; after he'd taken out Akira, Alec decided to finish off the people he blamed for the breakup." Camden shifted slightly. Encouraged, Minerva continued.

"We still don't know why he didn't do the job himself; perhaps he was too squeamish to want the blood on his hands. So he got the idea of dropping them off on the island and letting the Quintapeds do the dirty work for him. Big as that island is, the odds were _very_ good they wouldn't have been found in time. Except the twins surprised him." Her throat threatened to close up again and Minerva flung herself to her feet to pace. If Mr. Filch hadn't taught them what to do...if he hadn't...NO! No, it didn't bear thinking of. If James hadn't bitten Alec and won them that initial distraction...if Terry hadn't followed up with that punch to the crotch...

...if Terry hadn't retained the wit to grab Alec's wand before running for it...

Camden's voice startled her out of her budding reverie. "They think there's a chance Akira might still be alive."

This was old news to Minerva, who had spent over an hour working with an Auror as they, as gently as they dared, forced the boys to relive their experience. Perhaps the most startling revelation had been that the spell that had taken Akira down had been _red_. While there were a handful of lethal spells with a red aura, the fact remained that a simple Stunner matched the evidence much better. Unfortunately, they were still at an impasse, as the young Healer was missing. The boys vaguely remembered her being Transfigured into something metallic, but a search of the field and even of Alec's remains had turned nothing up. And the clock was ticking…

Camden, flung his head up and gave Minerva a desperate look. "You're the Transfiguration expert, what's the longest you've heard anyone surviving after being changed into an inanimate object?"

"Nine days," came the grim answer.

"Nine?" he echoed, looking both hopeful and startled at the same time. "The longest I'd heard was six."

"Seventeen years ago, an eight-year old boy was Transfigured by his mother during a Lethifold attack. Sadly, she had never learned the Patronus spell and once deprived of its intended prey, the monster turned to her instead. By a minor miracle, the package containing their effects tore while being posted to their nearest relative and the man working in the post office realized there was something slightly wrong with the cauldron that fell out. The boy spent several months in the hospital, but made a full recovery."

Camden's mood fell again as fast as it had risen. "But first we have to find her." There was a long silence, which he finally broke with the air of someone desperately looking for something else to think about.

"The boys are going to be pretty nightmare-prone for a while. If you like, there's an old Variation on a Memory Charm…"

"NO!"

Camden jerked back in shock at her explosion and came close to hitting his hand on a nearby bed-lamp. "Whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed once he'd recovered his balance. "I said a _variation_, not an actual Memory Charm. This one doesn't get _rid_ of the memories; it just makes them seem less important. Shoves them a bit farther back, that's all."

"Oh sure," Minerva snarled, "just 'makes them seem less important'." The strain of the last several hours suddenly snarled and flared up into anger. "They're going to need to face their fears and come to terms with them, and blocking the memories is _not_ the way to go about it! Yes, they're going to have a rough time for a while, believe you me, but when it's over they'll be the stronger for it. Memory Charms take a toll on the mind at the BEST of times! And you want to put one on _children_?!"

"So you'd rather they suffer through nightmares and Merlin knows what else? Camden demanded. "They. Were. Nearly. Murdered! Alec suffered a particularly nasty death for which the boys are partly responsible, NOT that I feel they are in _any_ way to blame," he put in as Minerva choked over words so outraged that she was having problems getting them out. "As for Memory Charms damaging the mind, that is complete poppycock! _You_ certainly aren't having any issues!"

The words seemed to hang in the air.

"That had _better_ not mean what it sounded like," Minerva finally said in a freezing tone so quiet even their ragged breathing tried to drown it out. Camden opened his mouth, but paused. An eternity later he shook his head to whatever he'd been planning to say and closed his lips once more. His already whitened face had taken on a hue like that of a corpse.

"When?" Minerva finally asked, still in that same quiet, deadly tone that was born of the block of ice that had taken hold in her chest.

"Four years ago," he admitted, "After the twins ran afoul of that kraken. You remember? They were fine; as far as they were concerned they fell asleep one place only to wake up in a strange bed. _You_ were the one who was a nervous wreck; constant nightmares, never letting them out of your sight, agonizing over how you could have let it happen, or what _could_ have happened." He was pleading now, begging for her to understand.

"A 'nervous wreck' for all of…" she cast her memory back, seeking that one that didn't want to come forward, "two days."

She had been going to ask, anyway, but Camden volunteered the information on his own. "I slipped into your room while you were sleeping that night. I swear to you; that is _all_ I did. And I have never cast it on the twins."

"Not even after my bout with encephalitis?" It seemed somehow important to be sure.

"No. I mean, they were having issues at first, but they got loads better after Akira," he flinched at the sound of her name, but went on, "explained viruses to them and how diseases could be prevented by washing." Minerva remembered the boys' 'clean phase' very well, which had lasted slightly less than two months before their scare had eased enough that they'd gone back to being their normal rowdy, dirty selves. They'd never protested bathing as much after that, though.

"Get out," Minerva finally whispered. Her voice cracked and she pummeled it back under control. "Get out, and don't come back."

For a moment she thought he was going to protest, but then he finally turned and walked towards the door, moving like a sleepwalker. Once there, he hesitated, then half-turned. "Minerva, for what little it's worth, I'm sorry. Please believe me; I never wanted to hurt you. I just wish…" He hesitated, then shook his head once more. The door clicked shut and he was gone.

* * *

He hadn't been this tired or this exhilerated since walking out of his last Hogwarts final several years ago. Long months of endless research; learning how to answer detractors; for that matter, learning how to chat people up at all; was finally starting to bear fruit. Remus Lupin, werewolf, was ever-so-slowly edging his way into the public eye, and so was his message. Only today he'd found himself speaking at a banquet held by the London Debate Club and he rather felt he'd acquitted himself well, if the number of people who'd come up to have a private talk with him afterwards was any indicator. Even Ebenezer Conrald had admitted that he was finally starting to shape up a little.

Remus chuckled to himself and bounded up the last few stairs to his appartment. A somewhat annoyed-looking owl looked up as the door swung open and clacked his beak.

The message freed, the owl took off out the window as though it was afraid Remus would want to keep him there. The letter itself had no return address, or any writing on the outside, for that matter. Remus shrugged to himself, it was probably more hate mail. Still, he made a point of reading everything he got, so he slit it open. The single line of text inside had no author listed, but Minerva's handwriting practially jumped out at him.

"They're _both_ wizards."

Remus very slowly collapsed backwards onto the ricketty sofa. One hand gently smoothed the letter as his gaze drifted to the barren opposite wall that looked as though pictures might have hung on it at one point. His smile felt as though it would split his face.

* * *

The castle brats were just going to have to run amuk for one night, Argus just didn't feel up to going out and hunting them down. It was amazing how quickly news traveled around the castle, it really was. Every single one of Argus' late-night group had been at his office within an hour of his return to anxiously ask about the twins, was it true that they'd been attacked by a herd of Acromantulas/Grims/Lethifolds, and were they all right? Argus had corrected certain misinformations and added in the news of Terry's magic and sent them on their ways again in the knowledge that this new news would quickly get distorted and create all new tales as it got passed from person to person. Eventually, he knew, one of Howart's legends would be of the day the castle had been attacked by one of Hagrid's escaped monsters and had been held off by a couple of passing children standing guard over the body of an unconscious professor.

He would have been more amused were it not for the two sleeping children several stories above him. _Their_ lives would be hell for some time to come. He was just going to have to find a way to spend time with them over the summer. He'd lived through his own nightmares and he'd learned to cope; now it was time to pass it along.

A stray thought struck him and he paused varnishing the picture frame. The researcher who had contacted him had somehow gotten the idea that he, Argus, was the twin's father. Now how had _that_ happened? Argus' gaze drifted upwards and to the south where the Hospital Wing resided, so many stories above.

* * *

He'd heard the downstairs clock chime one a while ago, but Neville still lay awake. The vaguely dragon-shaped shadow on the wall had scared him since he was a baby, his worst nightmares had always been it coming alive and chasing him, but tonight he kept finding himself looking over at it for reassurance. It was familiar, at least, and it wasn't showing any signs of wanting to get up and hunt him like the monsters had.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then hastily opened them again. When he closed his eyes he could see the monsters again, right in front of him and all around and he knew they were going to kill him. No, he didn't dare think about the monsters; think about the shadow and how it looked kind of like the mother dragon he'd seen last summer when some of the kids from Dragon Hall had snuck out to the moors to see her nest. Yes, yes; there was her mouth, caught just as it was opening…

She'd roared at them and lunged forward, the light reflecting off her dagger teeth and reddish-black scales making her seem even closer than she had been. Even the teenagers who'd taken him and James and Terry out there had been scared and they'd all piled back behind the hill and flattened themselves against the ground. She'd not left her nest though, and eventually they'd gotten back up and peered back over the crest.

She never took her eyes off them, but like the teenagers had said, she didn't want to leave her nest with her hatchlings so young. There was a squawking as one of the babies fell out of the nest and landed on its head. The mother hastily got up and nosed him back where he belonged, crooning as she checked him over to make sure he was all right. Inspection done, she settled down again and gently spread a wing over the nest. The hatchlings were safe under there; their mother would never let anything get them…

Neville watched the shadow with half-closed eyes, imagining what it had felt like to be that baby dragon. To be safe and warm, to know that she would _never_ let anything near you…yes, he could feel her wing tugging him closer, protecting him…he could hear her crooning…

The moon rode across the sky as Neville slept, but the nightmares left him alone; the memory of a black mother dragon standing watch over his sleeping form.

* * *


	37. Cry of the Dragon Clan

The voices were muffled by the bedroom door, but James could hear them well enough by pressing his ear against the cold wood. Patty, Akira's mum, was weeping while she talked. Gran wasn't, but her voice sounded a bit strangled. Patty's voice finally dissolved altogether into sobs and James imagined Gran leaning forward trying to hug the younger woman through the fireplace. After a very long time, the Floo call ended and he heard Gran's bedroom door click shut, but even then James crouched in the darkness, pressed tight against his door.

He was tired. He'd barely slept in days; was too afraid. Nights were a confused blur of shouting and screams, monsters that melted into men with silver faces and back again, flames, and above all, a woman's voice snapping words he couldn't quite hear over everything else. Terry at least had Spiderlady sleeping on his bed; James had taken to crawling in with them at night. But tonight he'd wet the bed and even after Gran had changed the sheets; he couldn't get back to sleep. The Floo call had become a distant memory by the time he stood and slipped outside the apartment.

* * *

The soft tap on Argus' door was hardly unexpected, nor was the small figure who slipped inside. The fact that James was alone, was. "Where's your brother?"

"Asleep," James whispered as he crawled into Argus' lap. He jumped as Mrs. Norris chirped, then twisted around as she carefully picked her way onto his leg. A faint smile briefly twitched at the corner of his mouth. Mrs. Norris was making a special effort tonight, purring so loudly she vibrated. The stillness that fell over the dim office was finally broken by the boy.

"Akira's dead."

Argus tightened his arms protectively. "Do they know for certain?"

James' head twitched in what might have been an attempt at shaking it. "They needed to find her and they didn't. It's been too long now. Patty called to tell Gran."

"I'm sorry." What else was there to say? That most of the Auror force couldn't find their arses with a map? That the girl should have picked her boyfriends better? Far too late now, and she had paid for her lack of judgment. And regardless, this was not something James needed to hear. Not here, not now.

There was another pause, then, "Neville almost died."

"I know," Argus answered quietly back. "But he didn't, remember? Terry levitated him away."

"Yeah. I 'member." A pause, then, "They were running at him. I was gonna guard him, but I fell through the roof." A shudder went through the boy that might have been laughter, might have been a sob. "He didn't know how to fight; me and Terry did like you told us, but Neville couldn't."

The twins were going to get a surprise in about another week. Professor McGonagall had had Augusta Longbottom over for tea a couple days before, and during that visit, the formidable woman had dropped by his office and spent a good hour talking. Professor McGonagall had decided to stay at Hogwarts this summer, and Argus never left, anyway. It had been decided that there was no reason Neville couldn't stay overnight every so often. If he was going to hang around the twins, knowing how to defend himself might not be such a bad idea. Not that James and Terry themselves were a problem, just that they attracted trouble like they attracted dirt.

"Tired now," the boy whispered. His small body had finally started to go limp.

"All right then, let's get you up to bed."

James was really getting too big to be carried all that way, but Argus found he didn't mind tonight. McGonagall's door didn't pose the problem it normally would, as James had apparently not locked it after him. Argus tucked his charge into bed next to Spiderlady and Terry. Mrs. Norris hopped up, and after butting her head into Argus' hand for a rub, curled up on the pillow next to James.

"She's gonna stay with me?" James whispered in surprise.

"All night," Argus promised. He gently smoothed the boy's hair. "It'll be all right, I promise. It won't be soon, but the nightmares will go away eventually. You'll never forget, but they'll get to where they hurt you less."

One final caress and a soft touch to the sleeping Terry's cheek. "Good night."

"G'night, Dadda," came the soft reply.

* * *

Akira Bonni MacFusty had not been declared officially dead by the Ministry, and probably wouldn't be for some time, but the residents, kin, and friends of Dragon Hall gathered in the ever-dimming light of the sunset to give the young woman a proper send-off. The twins were on their best behavior for once, with only an occasional shifting showing they were alive and not statues. They looked somewhat incomplete without the third member of their group, but Augusta had declined to let Neville attend the wake. She had neglected to give a reason why, but Minerva suspected the other woman hadn't wanted Neville involved in anything that might reawake too-recent memories.

There was a quick shifting and hum of voices as a young mother, infant in arms, dashed out of a nearby house and joined the waiting crowd. Then, as one, the voices died away and a tense silence fell as everyone turned to watch the sun. The last red sliver vanished beneath the horizon and there was a collective catch of breath. Minerva turned to face the wooden platform off to one side; now occupied by a man with bowed head.

Ever so slowly, Camden looked up and out across the sea of faces. Minerva had a hard time concealing her shock at the sight of his unshaved face, with red-rimmed eyes sunken deep into their sockets. When he spoke, his formerly even, cheerful voice cracked with strain and his usually almost-invisible Scottish accent had reappeared to a degree that she suspected most outsiders wouldn't have been able to understand him.

"Sunset: both to a summer's day, and to a life. Tonight there is an empty space among us, where a young woman used to stand. We gather here tonight that her soul may walk one final time among us and bid farewell to home and kin and friends. For our fallen daughter," as he held up a glass nearly filled with a liquid that glinted green in the twilight.

Minerva watched Camden narrowly as he stepped off the platform, but if he was aware that he'd substituted the word daughter for sister in the traditional speech, he showed no sign of it. At her side, Mary Blackmoore shook her head at Minerva. "Let it be," she murmured, an edge just barely noticeable in her voice. "The last couple of weeks have been hard enough on him; no need to go pointing out that he's making mistakes." Black eyes swept Minerva's face, watching for a reaction.

Experience gained from dealing with Severus on a daily basis just barely allowed Minerva to keep her face under control. What was going on? Mary had always been a busy-body and a gossip; where had this sudden venom come from? She surely wasn't trying to blame her sister's death on Minerva, was she? Or was this in response to hurting Camden when he was already dealing with losing his daughter? Minerva opened her mouth to try and disabuse Mary of any of this, but was instantly cut off by the younger woman.

"I tried to talk him out of speaking tonight, well, we all did; but he was determined to get up there." There was no mistaking the glint of anger in Mary's eyes as she plowed on; driving home how much she was supporting her father and how Minerva wasn't. "As 'the clan head' and 'my duty' and so forth; no matter that it's Akira he's sending off. I'm frankly surprised he got through this part. I'll have to see if I can get him to step out before midnight, get some rest; _which_ he badly needs, by the way."

Minerva quickly gave up trying to get through to Mary and focused instead of getting rid her. It took some time, but eventually Mary seemed to decide that Minerva had gotten the point and stalked away, leaving an extremely shaken Minerva behind. In the back of her mind, she'd assumed that even if she never spoke to or saw Camden again, she would at least still have her other friends here. Mary's words tonight seemed to hint otherwise. At least Patty, Akira's mother, and most of the other people she'd talked with hadn't shown any signs of hostility…

'_Though perhaps they're just hiding it better than Mary is?' _that little whisper in Minerva's head insisted on bringing up. _'You were the only person Akira had any contact with during those last few months. Can you really look these people in the eye and say there was nothing you could have done to save her? You knew she had esteem issues, you knew she needed support; Merlin help you, you even knew she was afraid of him! But you put it down to nerves, chucked her in that inn in Hogsmeade, and then just let her go out and babysit the next day! Truthfully, aren't you as responsible for her death as Alec?_

As she had been for the past couple of weeks, Minerva firmly told the voice to shut up and looked around for the twins, who'd wandered off. She just wished she could be sure the voice wasn't right.

* * *

Terry had never been to a wake before and he wasn't really sure what to make of this one. There was a huge crowd of people standing around and talking and sometimes crying, like Akira's mum when he'd met her an hour ago. He saw a lot of his friends from when he lived here during the summer, but he didn't really feel like talking to them right now. He felt kind of weird and kept getting a lump in his throat whenever he thought of Akira. He really wished Spiderlady could have come, but Gran had said no, she'd probably scare everybody.

Torches lined the grassy square, but most of the light was the bluish glow of lit wands, which lots of people were holding. Some people weren't, but he and James had figured out that those were the muggles who lived in the area. Gran kept wandering around talking to people, but for some reason she was avoiding Camden, who seemed to be avoiding her back.

Terry wasn't didn't know why she was suddenly so mad at Camden; but whatever it was, it was bad enough that they were going to stay at Hogwarts this summer instead of Dragon Hall. He'd asked, but she'd just said he was too young to understand; then snapped at him and had to apologize when he'd pressed the issue.

The hours drifted by with agonizing slowness and as midnight came closer and closer, Terry found it harder and harder to keep calm. Nervousness combined with being too crowded suddenly boiled over and he grabbed his twin's hand and towed the unresisting James over to a nearby table and scrambled on top. His heart gradually slowed as he gulped down great mouthfuls of cool night air.

He'd only just starting relaxing when there was a stir in the crowd as somebody made their way back towards the wooden platform. At first the man had to force his way between people, but then they starting giving way and fell silent once more. By the time Camden stepped onto the platform, a sea of watchful eyes stared at him.

Terry's heart started pounding again. Everybody was supposed to shout out what relation Akira had been to them and then Camden was going to talk…no, that wasn't right, Camden talked and then…then…something about blood. He and James were supposed to say something, but he couldn't remember what Gran had told him… He was going to spoil everything and they'd all be upset. He felt sick.

The hands on the tower clock moved to five til midnight. Camden raised his hands, then let them drop. "Akira Bonni MacFusty; youngest daughter of Patricia Howes and Camden Macfusty; younger sister to Brian, Mary, Carlin, and Iain; kin, friend, or clan-sister to all here. Tonight we have eaten and drunk with her one final time, but as midnight approaches and the gates to the afterlife yawn open, her spirit wanders far from us and cannot be called back."

Camden took a steadying breath. "We gathered here to celebrate her, but now the final reckoning comes. Not disease, nor dragons, nor drowning took her from us, but a man." A heartbeat's pause, then a roaring shout. "HAS THERE BEEN REDRESS FOR THAT LOSS?"

"AYE!" Terry yelled back before he was able to think; James' voice adding strength to his. The terror had faded and anger had taken its place.

"AND HOW WAS THAT PAYMENT MADE?"

A tapestry hung inside the main hall not a hundred yards away; it showed a group of wild-looking warriors offering a pile of gold and the severed head of a murderer to a long-ago Clan leader. Camden, now, looked every bit as wild and terrible as his far-distant ancestor.

"IT WAS PAID IN BLOOD!" Terry bellowed, a hair behind his brother.

"THEN LET THOSE WHO AVENGED OUR SISTER COME FORWARD!"

A path opened in the crowd as Terry and James jumped off the table and headed for the platform. Camden knelt to help them up and muttered a quick, "Well done," in their ears, then suddenly all three of them were facing outwards and the tower clock was reaching for midnight. Terry almost felt he could see a great abyss yawning open in the air, reaching out for Akira's soul as she walked away from them. His head swam and the ground wasn't holding still.

From somewhere far away and above, the clock's music stopped and there was a heartbeat of silence.

One. With the booming of the bell, half the crowd chanted, "Friend!"

Two. A smaller group answered this time, "Cousin!"

Three. A still smaller group speaking. Terry could hear their voices but they didn't make any sense over the roaring in his ears.

Four. He had the insane desire to join the people shouting, but it wasn't his turn yet. The person who avenged a death was always the last of the relations to speak.

Five. A handful of people grouped near the front cried out.

Six. "Sister!" The fog in Terry's head suddenly cleared as he recognized Iain Macfusty, one of Akira's brothers, shouting in the front row with tears streaming down his face.

Seven. "Daughter!" Two voices this time, one a woman hidden somewhere in the crowd, the other from Camden.

Eight. "Grand-aunt!" Terry shouted with his twin at the top of their lungs.

Nine. Camden visibly wobbled as he shouted out, "AKIRAAA!"

Ten. The echoes rang in his ears in the sudden silence. It was getting hard to breath again.

Eleven. Camden threw back his head and a dragon's scream howled into the night.

Twelve. Terry roared as loudly as he could, but he couldn't hear his own voice above the sea of sound he was floating in. For a moment he thought he was in the middle of the biggest pack of dragons ever and he looked around to see them.

Silence fell again, far louder than any sound, until it was broken by a roar answering them from far away. The ground started moving again, worse than before. Black dragon's wings swept across his vision and he collapsed.


	38. Trapped

"I was afraid you wouldn't come." Camden looked exhausted, but his eyes were steady as he met Minerva's gaze.

"I almost didn't," she admitted. She tapped her fingers uncertainly on the chair back, not entirely sure what she wanted to do or why she was here. If she waited, perhaps Camden would press her to sit down and she would have an excuse to storm out of the Hogshead. Unfortunately, he seemed willing to let her take the lead. Finally deciding she was being absurd; Minerva jerked the chair out and settled herself into it.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out abruptly.

"That's it?" Minerva asked in disbelief. "You owl me out of the blue and ask to meet, just to say you were _sorry_?!" A single icy thread of sanity floated in a sea of red, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to hold onto it. Easier to give in to the anger and keep him and his betrayal far, far away. "For your information, both Poppy and the St. Mungo's Spell-Damage Ward say that little memory block you did can't be removed without risking permanent brain damage. If it's praise you're looking for, perhaps I could refer you to Professor Flitwick? I'm sure he'd give you an 'O' for the Outstanding job you did!"

He flinched under the assault, but visibly steeled himself and caught her gaze again. "There's nothing else I _can_ say. I made a huge mistake and I can't fix it. I'm sorry Minerva, I'm so very sorry." A gulp for air, then, "Tell me to go away and leave you alone and I will do so. Forever."

It was like kicking a puppy; he wasn't even defending himself. Some of her anger faded and she sighed. "Let's not go that far just yet." A headache was trying to start behind her left eye. "So why'd you ask to see me, Camden? Surely not because you wanted me to throw you out of my life again?"

His mouth opened and shut a few times. Apparently he hadn't expected to get this far. "I…you two…because…," he stuttered to a halt and took a second to regroup. "You and Akira, you were two of the best things that ever happened to me. And then I lost both of you in a single day. And both because of my own STUPIDITY!" He spat out the last word, self-hated and despair combined.

Another steadying breath. "There's nothing I can do for Akira, but you…I had to at least try to make amends. I…I just couldn't take losing you, too."

Somehow it had never struck Minerva that she might not be the only one with guilt issues. The anger vanished into nothingness, and when she spoke, her voice was gentle. "Do you really think we can just pick up where we left off?"

Camden shook his head. "No, I know better than that. Friends, perh…no, not even that! Acquaintances, two people who've spoken a few times and just happened to meet up in the, er, Hogshead…" casting a sudden dubious glance around the dirty, nearly empty tavern.

Minerva was unable to keep herself from laughing. "Fine, acquaintances; if that's how you want to play it." Softly, "I missed you too, Camden. But if you _ever_ cast a Memory Charm on me again…"

"No! Never again!"

* * *

Prior knowledge or not, Percy's first impression of Hogwarts was of pure overload. The boat ride through the dark and the castle on the cliff, the inside of the school with ghosts floating around the entrance to inspect the huddled crowd of firsties, the ceilings arching far out of reach of the brilliant candlelight, and the Great Hall itself: with the stars glinting overhead, candles flickering below, and in between; a thousand, thousand eyes whose gazes formed an almost visible barrier between the tables and the podium.

Beside Percy, Romulus was the color of old oatmeal and visibly shaking. "I've never been so scared," he whispered.

Percy thought about that for a moment. "It's not so bad," he finally decided. "There's worse stuff." Far worse stuff. Like fighting a gang of older children to keep your siblings from getting slaughtered. Like getting kicked in the face and _feeling_ something break. Like, he amended a second later, reaching out for your dog and suddenly remembering he wasn't at your side.

Romulus said something rude in response. He'd stopped shaking, at least.

Finally! McGonagall was bringing out the Sorting Hat.

* * *

It was over and done with. The Sorting was done, the Feast had been cleared away, and Percy was walking into the room that would be his for the next seven years. It was nice, he decided. The furniture was inviting, the room combined coziness with airiness, and the beds seemed to be calling to him. The decorations were going to take a little getting used to though…

He'd chickened out. Over two years of planning, of mapping out arguments and lines of reasoning; all had gone the way of the wind when the Hat actually dropped over his eyes. It had even _wanted_ to put him in Slytherin _("such ambition, oh gracious yes, and the determination to carry it through"_), but that was the moment when all his doubts and fears had chosen to surface and he'd found himself in the absurd situation of trying to convince the hat _not_ to put him in his chosen House! Its next idea had been Gryffindor, which he had also rejected. (_"Do you __know__ how much of a handicap being a Gryffindor is at the Ministry?! Besides, I intend to make prefect and I don't want to be continually chasing Fred and George.") _By the time they'd finally settled on ("_Ravenclaw!"_), he was so limp that he'd slid off the stool and fallen flat on his face.

The next bed over, Romulus was laughing to himself as he meticulously smoothed his blankets; then kicked them to the foot of the mattress.

"What's so funny?" Percy decided he wanted to know.

"Oh, nothing really," came the answer. "Just didn't expect Ravenclaw. I mean, I like learning things, but everybody in the family's been Slytherin for generations. The letter home tomorrow is going to be interesting." Romulus glanced up from the nest of blankets he was making and offered a half-grin. "At least you're in here, too."

"Where else," Percy chuckled wryly back at his best non-canine friend.

* * *

There was a noticeable difference in Argus' Army this year. Little James and Terry were still there, but they'd been joined by another boy their age, introduced as Neville. None of the three looked as though they'd been sleeping much, which wasn't surprising considering the wild stories that had suddenly sprung up right at the end of last year. Jeremy had gotten a few tidbits from Argus at the time but not the whole story, and this turned out to be one of the few times when the truth was far more thrilling than the rumors. Kristin had screamed when the Quintapeds first made their appearance. Jer could sympathize; he'd jerked backwards and tripped over Rannon, the little Gryffindor, at that point.

Lessons still included the great 'Hide and Seek' battles around the castle, but there was more hand to hand mixed in. Young Neville was far behind everybody else in self-defense and had a tendency to trip or run into things when sneaking around, but his determination showed in his round face. James or Terry might pick up a skill after a few tries. Neville wouldn't, but he would keep working at it until he'd either mastered it or toppled over in exhaustion.

Nights anymore were as hard or harder as most classes, but nobody seemed to mind. Particularly not when a sidelong glance showed you three living reasons why this was worth learning.

* * *

Fred collapsed stomach-down onto his bed and groaned.

"D'ya think Mum really means it?" his twin enquired, "about calling the dementors to take us off to Azkaban?"

"Doubt it," Fred rejoined, though a bit uncertainly. "Don't think they're allowed to take kids there. Still, we'd probably better lie low for a while; think Mum might be getting sick of us pranking Ron all the time." He made an incautious movement and winced at the pain in his backside.

"Well it's not like we've got anyone else to practice on." George said reasonably. "Ginny's a girl and Mum and Dad aren't safe to prank. It's going to be _forever_ 'til we make it to Hogwarts."

"Right," Fred nodded. There was a gloomy pause.

"Ergh," one twin groaned.

"Agreed," the other replied.

* * *

It was hardly the ideal solution, but Rover wasn't complaining _very_ hard.

For once, all of Percy's carefully laid plans had fallen through. Early negotiations with Professor McGonagall had screeched to a sudden halt when the interfering old bat had thought to enquire about Rover's size. It seemed that after an 'unfortunate incident' a few years back ('which was completely ridiculous,' Rover added to himself, 'how was _he_ supposed to have known that curtains could cause _that_ much damage?') students were no longer allowed to bring pets over thirty pounds. Nor, it turned out, could they be boarded at Hagrid's after the 'Chimera Incident'.

Increasingly desperate owls had finally won space at a woman's house not far off the school grounds and a pass that allowed Percy a few hours each weekend to visit. This being Percy, he accepted this, waited a couple of weeks, then scouted out secret passageways. By the end of the first month, Percy's weekly schedule included seven two-hour appointments with Rover once the dog-lady had retired for the night.

It wasn't ideal, but it was something. Besides, it practically eliminated the chance of one of the professors accidentally recognizing that the 'dog' wasn't quite genuine, which Percy didn't know to guard against. All things considered, perhaps it had worked out for the best.

* * *

After more than six months of legal obstructions, some committee at the Ministry finally ruled that there was "probable cause" to rule Akira Bonni MacFusty "deceased" and to allow the "executors of her estate" to "distribute her holdings as allowed by the deceased's will". In practice, what this boiled down to was a MLE, or Magical Law Enforcement officer, unsealing the house and escorting inside Camden, Minerva, and a woman who turned out to Alec's older sister. While Minerva technically wasn't supposed to be there, Camden had bullied the MLE into letting her come, under the excuse of 'solace and support'.

Officer Larek was a young former Hufflepuff who seemed somewhat uncomfortable dealing with grieving family, but was doing his best to be sympathetic and supportive.

Alec's sister, Carrie, turned out to be middle-aged, bitter, and not at all broken up about her brother. A few minutes of awkward conversation brought forth the grim tale of a young couple forced to marry when Carrie had unexpectedly come along. From the very first, she'd been caught between her parents; target of their anger and resentment, told she was unwanted and unneeded, not even given a name until her third birthday. Her much-younger brother had been born into the same toxic atmosphere, but in his case, both adults had been competing to prove who the 'better' parent was.

"He was spoiled from the day he was born, never had to do any chores, never found out what 'no' meant. Some children might have still turned out all right, but he was the exact wrong type to try that with. I'd try to correct him and Mother would slap me across the face."

That she'd kept any contact with her family was surprising, much less been picked to inventory Alec's belongings. Whatever the reasons, they certainly didn't show up in her words; with the kindest thing she had to say being, "Be glad you didn't have to deal with my parents, they're still weeping and wailing over their darling boy. You'd have thrown them through a window in five minutes, tops. At least the little bastard didn't take those kids out with him." Suddenly remembering who she was talking to, she hastily added, "Sorry about your daughter, Mr. MacFusty."

Between Carrie's endless monologue and his own painful memories, Camden was glassy-eyed before they'd even reached the front door. Once inside, he seemed to slip into a trance, wandering here and there, sometimes stopping to gaze at something especially meaningful.

About an hour in, they'd made it into the living room, a cheerful, sunny place with a birdcage in one corner. Carrie took one look and rounded on Officer Larek in horror. "Do you mean to tell me that poor thing has been alone in here for a _year_? No company, no attention, no ANYTHING?!"

The unlucky officer only managed to calm the outraged woman down after sheepishly admitting to having bent the rules somewhat and taken the bird home with him, only returning it that morning. He then inquired whose bird it was, as his children had fallen in love with 'Spookster' and kept hinting they wanted to keep it.

Carrie had to shake her head to that, if Alec had owned a bird, _she_ hadn't known about it. Everybody turned to look at Camden, but he'd left the room at some point. Both Carrie and Officer Larek went off in pursuit, leaving Minerva alone amid the sunshine. It really was the most cheerful room in the house and felt almost comforting, as if it was trying to offer a warm hug. The bird chirping and fluttering around in excitement didn't hurt the impression. Minerva smiled and walked over.

A moment later the smile had slipped, replaced by a puzzled frown. As a cat Animagus she had an interest in birds, touch them or not, but she couldn't quite identify this one. Up close, it reminded her of the typical results of a classroom assignment to create a Skylark from a rock; close, but not quite. The vague sensation of something 'wrong' magically didn't help. Why would Alec have been Transfiguring this bird?

As she tried to get a better look, the light glinting off the metal birdcage triggered something buried deep under a pile of other memories. Something…metal, the glint of metal…oh, no. Surely not. "Alec, you monster," she whispered to the suddenly still room.

"CAMDEN!" she shouted, excitement distorting her voice.

"Minerva?" came a panicked answer, "Minerva! Are you all…right?" trailing off as he burst into the seemingly innocent room. Hot on his heels, Carrie and Larek skidded to a halt, glanced about, then traded confused looks.

"This bird, it's not really a bird; the twins said they saw something metal, they did, just not what they thought it was…"

Carrie looked as though she were considering Firecalling the St. Mungo's Mental Ward, but Minerva could see dawning comprehension on Officer Larek's face, followed swiftly by horror. "Saints preserve us!" he gasped; then professionalism took over. "All right, calm down. Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves; all we have so far is a _very_ interesting theory." He carefully put a Boulder-Weight charm on the songbird before popping the cage open.

"What is going on here?" Camden demanded.

"When Alec Stunned Akira that day, the twins said they saw something metallic. We assumed that he'd Transfigured _her_. What if that was something else, something _surrounding…_"

"Akira!" His voice was suddenly terrible and he jerked forward like a badly charmed puppet. Larek motioned him to a halt and Levitated the hysterical bird over to the middle of an empty patch of floor. Gently pinning it in place, he calmly inquired, "Would you care to do the honors, Professor?"

Their gazes met in a silent handshake. "Of course." Her wand was rock-steady as she aimed it. For a split second nothing happened, then the bird screamed and pandemonium took over.

Feathers shot inwards and vanished under skin, limbs and body twisted horribly as they grew, the beak softened and melted into lips. Minerva was forced to grab Camden as he tried to rush over. They struggled in silence for a moment, Camden fighting like a madman. He knocked Minerva's wand out of her hand, only to slip on it and send both of them crashing to the floor. They lay still for a moment, Minerva massaging her bruised ribs and Camden trying to get his wind back, then the meaning of the silence sunk in and they both twisted around to look.

Larek was kneeling over the weakly-stirring Akira, chain-casting diagnostic spells. The young healer seemed to be in shock; certainly there was no recognition of anything or anyone. Carrie pulled her head out of the fireplace (when had _that_ happened?) to announce that St. Mungo's was sending a Parahealer. Even as she spoke, a Medi-Wizard clambered out and zeroed in on his patient.

Several diagnostic spells and a few terse exchanges later, the Parahealer seemed to decide Akira was safe to move; so he conjured a stretcher and vanished back into the fireplace, leaving everyone else blinking at one another.

Carrie finally broke the stunned silence. "So, would anyone care to take bets on how long it'll be before the Ministry decided to declare the poor girl _alive_ again?"


	39. Sitting in a Tree

The opinion of the St. Mungo's healers was that Akira would recover fully, but take several weeks to do so. Physically injured or not, spending seven months as a messily-transfigured bird had taken a toll. Her mind was going to take the longest to recover; right now she was still figuring out that she _was_ human again.

The hours spent in the hospital waiting room had been among the longest in Minerva's life. Part of it was because of Akira, but mainly because Mary MacFusty Blackmoore had spent quite a long time simply staring at Minerva. She had stared pointedly back; but the other woman hadn't wavered and Minerva wound up being the one forced to look away. Iain had finally put an end to it by catching Mary's eye and shaking his head slightly, but that had just made Minerva all the more uneasy. It was as though something else entirely had looked out of the gossip's eyes; something cold and evaluating, like a snake. The fact that Iain had recognized what was happening and warned his sister off didn't help Minerva's peace of mind. Who was Mary really? What was hiding behind that mask?

It had been a relief to have the Aurors come in bearing their latest theory about the crime. They now believed that Alec's alcohol-inspired intent had originally been to prevent Akira from ever leaving him again. Murdering the children probably hadn't been in his plans, but they'd wound up being inconvenient witnesses. The fact that he blamed two of them for the breakup had likely been the icing on the cake.

"Unlucky for him that those boys knew how to defend themselves," one of the Aurors had said. "I really think he was out of his mind at the last; I've got no other way to explain why he didn't try to escape. Wandless or not, there were still any of several ways he could have tried to save himself. If nothing else, if he'd worked there then he _had_ to have known that screaming after the boys would attract the quintapeds."

"Lucky for him the monsters got to him before I could," Iain had snarled at that point.

The Auror had taken it half-jokingly in an attempt to defuse the tension. "Lucky for _you_, then; I don't like seeing people go to Azkaban because they were trying vigilante justice. Though if you're as good at fighting as your great-nephews, perhaps you could have made a break for it."

Iain had wisely pretended that he hadn't meant it. Minerva had lost track of the conversation at that point due to looking over at Mary at the wrong moment. The mask had slipped again, and for a split second, Minerva was utterly certain that whether or not Iain would have gone after Alec, Mary would have. It struck her that Akira's oldest sister might be a very bad enemy to make.

* * *

Kristin was mobbed the instant the door to the Hufflepuff common room swung open. Her first impulse was to run for it, but she'd already been swarmed by what seemed like her entire house. Some joker tried to lift her up onto the top of the crowd, but a quick couple of elbow jabs took care of that. Sadly, the same solution didn't work for the questions.

"Did you _really_ put Professor Schwarzkatze in St. Mungo's?"

"Are you going to get kicked out?"

"What _happened?!_"

"How…"

"Did…"

"BOW DOWN TO OUR HUFFLEPUFF QUEEN!"

Kristin aimed a cow-kick at Saleem, who was suiting actions to words and getting a good quarter of the house to follow along. Jeremy, who had just prostrated himself, was unfortunately _barely_ out of reach.

"No I didn't…that's not…no…SHUT UP! Just SHUT! _UP!!!_"

"Well said, Kristin!" rejoined a cheerful voice from behind her, instantly silencing the room.

"Professor Sprout!" Kristin wailed, suddenly feeling even closer to despair.

"I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore has asked for the two of us to step up to his office. Apparently Professor Schwarzkatze has a rather lurid story to tell; would it be possible for me to hear your version _before_ we get there?"

"In front of everybody?" Kristin asked uneasily; acutely aware of the surrounding, _very_ interested, crowd.

"Well, as I see it, you can either tell me in private and endure the endless and _highly_ inaccurate rumors that will be running around, _or_ you can tell the story here and have at least Hufflepuff telling your side of things."

Kristin sighed, but bowed to the inevitable. "We were in Defense against the Dark Arts and Professor Schwarzkatze volunteered me. He then told me I had five seconds to get the wand out of his hand or else."

"And you didn't try to Disarm him?" Pomona enquired in a deceptively gentle voice.

"I _did_!" she wailed again. "He cast a Shielding Charm and my spell bounced off and came back and disarmed _me_! And I only had a couple of seconds left and so I…I…"

"Charged," Pomona supplied. She looked as though she was suppressing the urge to laugh.

"I never touched him, though," she said defensively. "He saw me, er, charge, and he jumped back and fell over."

"It's true," Saleem put in. "He tripped and went down, and Kristin somehow managed to hurdle him at the same time as she snatched his wand."

"He picked her on purpose," Jeremy added, apparently no longer seeing the need to keep himself in check. "I think he thought she was too…er," suddenly realizing he was wandering onto dangerous ground, "well, she doesn't look as _dangerous_ as some of the rest of us do."

"I know I'm plump, Jeremy Williamson," Kristin snarled, "now if you don't shut up, I'm going to show you just how much muscle I've got hidden."

"Speaking as a woman, Williamson," Professor Sprout added severely, "I would indeed advise you avoid that particular subject when speaking with _any_ female. It seems to be a general sore spot with us, no matter how comfortable with ourselves we say we are. As for you, Kristin, I would say that you're stocky, not overweight. You have a very sturdy body and it should serve you well. Now," she added in a different tone of voice, "I hate to break this up, but I think Kristin and I should be running along to Professor Dumbledore's office."

"Don't worry," the older woman added once they'd reached the corridor, "if he was really foolish enough to give a student free license, then I think he fully earned whatever lumps he may have gotten. If I have any say in it, you won't even get a detention. Of course, remember that it _is_ ultimately up to Professor Dumbledore."

She did feel rather better after that, enough that she suddenly decided to pop a question that had rather been on her mind. "Pomona, would you mind if I asked you for advice, about something rather personal?"

"Anytime," Pomona answered as she swiftly cast a Cone of Silence and Disillusioned the lower parts of each of their faces to avoid nosy lip-readers. She never broke stride, whatever it was must be asked during the time it took to hike to the Headmaster's office or be continued later.

"Well, it's…it's Jeremy and Saleem. You see, well, is it possible to like two guys at once?"

"Oh! Oh goodness. Are you asking about a three-way relationship?

"No!" Kristin exclaimed, her cheeks flaming. "Well, yes…no…it's complicated."

Pomona didn't say anything, but her expression invited further conversation.

Again Kristin found herself sighing. "I think I really like Jeremy, as in 'love' like. It's been this way for a couple years now and hasn't changed, I don't think it's a crush. At least if it is, it's not at all like what the other girls talk about."

"And how does Jeremy feel?" came the response.

She could feel her head drooping. "He doesn't know I exist. Saleem and I were even teasing him once about how he never went out with anybody, and he actually got surprised at the idea that he _should_. He's not even an Auror yet and he's already married to his work." She'd never before been thankful for the long walk from the Hufflepuff dormitories to the Headmaster's office.

"Some people are like that, I'm afraid; and it's probably only going to get worse over time. Now, what about Saleem? Is he the same way?"

"No. He likes me, I think. But I'm not sure I like him _that_ much. He's my friend, I can talk to him about _anything_; but I don't think I'm in love. Probably."

"Classic triangle," the older woman sighed. "You _are_ aware you're not under any obligation to get married right out of school? Often these things work themselves out, given time. It may be that you haven't met the boy for you yet."

"I know that," Kristin answered. "But Jeremy had the big idea that since it looks like all three of us will probably be working in London, we can save on costs and share a flat. BUT, that means we're all living together."

"Which I think is a wonderful idea!" Pomona said enthusiastically. At her pupil's startled look, she chuckled and explained. "I'm not talking about 'living in sin', as the phrase goes; but rooming with someone shows you their character like nothing else. Will they Vanish the trash? Clean the dishes? Refill the cupboard? Can I stand to live with this person or will I start dreaming of murder a few months in? This may very well be the acid test that lets you either work things out or decide it's not going to happen."

"On that note," she added, "I don't know if you were considering it, but I would recommend against sleeping with either of them…I'm not shocking you, am I? Good! I think that would only complicate matters more. Sort your feelings out, _then_ make that decision."

"And I'm very sorry to say this, but I think that if we stand outside his door any longer, Professor Dumbledore is going to send search parties out for us. I'll be in my office until nine tonight if you'd like to talk further. Excellent! Shall we go face the music?"

* * *

"JAMES AND TERRY EVANS!!! Care to explain to me why Spiderlady's water dish is bone-dry?! And clean up these cobwebs!"

Moments later, Spiderlady knocked Terry aside in her eagerness to get a drink, spilling water everywhere. Gran waved her wand without looking up from the papers she was now grading and a stack of towels appeared on the table. Mopping up done, the boys looked dispiritedly at the massive spiderwebs filling one corner of their bedroom.

It was a mess. One of their chores was to clean out their pet's cobwebs, but neither of them had done it this week and it was two days overdue. Spiderlady's unused dogbed was suspended upside down in the middle of a huge triangle of webs. One of her toy bones was hanging from the ceiling next to something completely wrapped in thick white strands. Her food dish was… somewhere… And the whole thing was starting to collect dust.

"It wouldn't be so bad if you'd done it when you were supposed to." Gran said sternly. She scribbled a letter grade onto an essay and dropped it onto the growing pile beside her. "And before you even consider it, the house elves are under strict orders not to touch one strand of this wreck."

There was a moment's pause as both boys pondered the chances of talking Neville into doing it when he came over that night.

"Now!"


	40. Storm's Lull

The February moon shone cold and bright over the castle and the dormant lawn surrounding it. In a narrow gap of silver caught between the shadows cast by Hogwart's towers and the watching void of the Forbidden Forest, a stooped figure paused to gaze thoughtfully at a certain tree.

He was well out of reach but the Whomping Willow stirred anyway, perhaps in the hopes that he would come closer. From her perch on his shoulder, a scraggly cat hissed at the twitching branches.

"Easy, my sweet," the man said softly. "It's there for a reason, it is."

From a long way away, there was a howl that might have been a wolf's, might have been the wind that was picking up once more. Another cry answered and the man's gaze slowly drifted in the direction of the distant village; oblivious to the snow starting to fall.

After a long time, he turned and walked back to the castle; vanishing into its warm halls. The moonlight slowly ebbed, stifled by the approaching blizzard. In a distant shack that had no entrance to the village it crouched next to, a cat huddled in a somewhat warmer spot and anxiously watched two demented-seeming wolf pups as they dashed frantically from one side of the building to another. As one, they stopped and howled, baying the storm in.

* * *

**This Memory Book Belongs To:**_James and Terry Evans_

**Date:**_ February 25, 1986_

**Age:**_6 years_

**Home:**_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry __**(painstakingly inscribed, as though the author was in the habit of writing the words in formal documents)**_

**Pet(s):**_ Spiderlady, a treeclimber_

**Favorite food(s):**_** (What looks as though it might be the same word is written and crossed out several times. The last, not quite so well scratched out, appears to have four letters and begins with 'r' and 'a'. Crowded into the remaining space are the words**_ '_Sausages_' _**and**_ '_Bread Pudding_' _**in a differently colored ink, as though the author had set the book down and come back to it at a later time.)**_

**Favorite book:**_James: The Hobbit / Terry: Toadstool Tales: The Wolpertinger and the Weeping Fox_

_**(And so forth, for another page and a half)**_

**Typical Day:** _The twins usually rise with the sun and play quietly in their room until they hear me get up. An early-morning bath is sometimes required, depending on how much dust, spiderwebs, and various cleaning-agent smudges they've 'mysteriously' acquired during the night. Terry is good about brushing his teeth on his own, but James positively hates it and puts up a fight. Brushing his hair is also a major chore, though for a different reason. I still hold out hope that one day I'll figure out how to manage that unruly hair of his. Augusta Longbottom suggested growing it out and so I'm trying that. It's shoulder-length at the moment and does help, though not enough. Terry has the most lovely manageable hair, but when he heard James was going to get long hair, he wanted it too. They're quite the handsome pair right now._

_Terry's noticeably bigger than James at the moment; a good half inch taller and certainly more solid. It wasn't as obvious when they were younger, but they put on a growth spurt recently and it's showing. Terry's going to be quite burly when he grows up, I think. James is slighter, though hardly delicate by any means. Sizes notwithstanding, James is the ringleader of much of their mischief. Just last week he almost got the pair of them drowned when he decided he wanted to go swimming and picked the middle of the night and the prefect's bath to try it out. Fortunately the Fat Friar saw them going into the room and summoned help in time to fish them out. Moaning Myrtle was also present, but chose to sit (float?) and watch instead of actually doing anything, the little brat. They have been expressly forbidden to avoid water over their heads from now on, and Argus has quietly promised to teach them to swim come summer. I've mixed feelings about that. In the back of my mind, I'd very much hoped that Remus would be able to…_

_**(The text starts again on the next line in a slightly darker ink and a sloppier, more tired-seeming, hand) **__I don't know if I should worry about the twins's medical condition or not. Their 'little problem' isn't as much of an issue as it's supposed to be. I'm sure I remember Remus having far more issues than this while he lived at Hogwarts. The average __**(scratched out word)**_…_their 'problem'…oh, how to put this? _

_Remus was vicious, angry, and in pain during 'those' times. James and Terry, not so much. It may just be that they've never been alone and have never been exposed to a human during 'those' times, but they're __far__ less aggressive than they should be. They recover faster, and don't seem to suffer from the mental trauma that Remus did. I don't know if this means they weren't infected as fully, or whether having high quality medical care from the start has been the deciding factor. I know for a fact that Remus' parents were too poor to afford proper medical care and that he received his first non-home treatments several years after being infected. Is this the difference? I just don't know; there isn't enough research on the subject. Poppy's been trying to get me to anonymously release their medical information to help fill this gap, but I cannot take the chance of exposure. There's too much at stake. I wonder sometimes just how many other parents have made this same choice._

* * *

The day started bright and early with the dawn's light. As usual, the birds were being annoyingly loud, stopping only when a thestral plummeted into the treetops and took off again with something large dangling from his mouth. "_Wicked!_" breathed a small boy with his chin propped on his bedroom windowsill.

"What was _that_?!" blurted an older boy at another bedroom window in another tower in the castle.

"Go back to sleep, Percy..." moaned a tired voice from one of the other four bunks in the room.

"No, really! Something broke through the trees and a dead rodent's floating away!"

"Ungh…" came the response.

* * *

"You're awake," Lydia Conrald said from behind the figure at the library window. When her husband didn't respond, she slipped into the dark room and stood just behind his shoulder. The full moon lit up the snowy garden below and set the Moonpheonix flowers to burning. One crumbled to ash as they watched, casting flickering shadows on the green tendrils appearing from the remains of another. Within minutes it had reached its full height and blossomed, only to catch fire and blaze up once more.

"A good burn tonight," Ebenezer finally said. "I'll have to go dig up some of the excess seeds in the morning. Rogers has been asking for some for months now."

She considered asking him about his Healer's appointment earlier that day, but held off. There was no need for him to know that she kept closer track of his schedule than he himself did. Besides, had there been good news, he would have told her already. Funny, how a simple Healer could pronounce more death sentences than the whole of the Wizengamot.

"Nothing new," Ebenezer suddenly surprised her by saying. "He gives me another few months, maybe a year. Same thing he's been saying for the past six years." A chuckle escaped him at her reaction. "You may have a gift for it, but you're not the only investigator in the household. Really, Lydia, charming my datebook to copy itself into yours?"

Gathering her tattered dignity about her, she managed to reply almost haughtily, "Oftentimes it's the simplest things that work. Information is knowledge and knowledge is power. My career hardly started itself, you know."

"And you've made a magnificent job of it, my love." There was a shared chuckle this time, and she felt her head drift to his shoulder. Silence eased over them once more and she felt Ebenezer draw in a breath that was as relaxed as he ever allowed himself to be. She should have felt comforted in that warm, dim room, like a blanket drawn close. Instead, she felt as though she stood outside in the snow, with the distant storm picking up.

Her husband had defied death and the Healers for years now, but she knew too well that the day would come when he could no longer outpace his illness.

One day she would lose him, and the thought increasingly filled her with terror. What was death, anyway? Was there really something beyond, or was a life merely a Moonpheonix that blazed up and vanished, leaving behind a mere handful of ashes to be scattered by the winds of time and memory? Death was an unknown, a final question mark, and she didn't like unanswered questions.

She didn't really like the naïve 'pup' Remus Lupin, but it was at times like this that she silently blessed the man. At Ebenezer's lowest, the werewolf had appeared and posed a challenge, something her husband had never been able to resist. Training his 'not-protégé' may not have given Ebenezer Conrald a reason to keep living, but it had certainly given new life to the dying embers.

"May it go on for years," she murmured to herself.

"What was that, my love?"

"Nothing, just watching the moonpheonixes."

* * *

**Memorandum**

**From: **Obbod: Director of Vault Security

**To: **Gringotts Curse-Creators: Section 3

**Subject:** Curse overlaps and meltdowns

The safety of Gringott's lower vaults was compromised yesterday morning when your new security curse was installed, causing the entire section's spells to interact with explosive results. Aside from the issue of customer confidence, the dragon was greatly disturbed and has not yet come out from the corner he is cowering in. What you are doing to prevent a recurrence of the issue?

**Memorandum**

**From: **Arthur Weasley: Head of Section 3

**To:** Obbod: Director of Vault Security

**Subject:** Re: Curse overlaps and meltdowns

The explosion Tuesday was cause by the presence of an undocumented Tentacular Curse and three or more enchanted scythes, which we did not know about when we developed and installed the Curling-Bones Hex. Our pre-installation tests do no good if they don't match conditions in the vault environments. I'd like permission to assign Breanni and Zarmal to inspecting vaults for undocumented curses.

**Memorandum**

**From: **Obbod: Director of Vault Security

**To: **Arthur Weasley: Head of Section 3

**Subject:** Re: Re: Curse overlaps and meltdowns

Permission for vault inspection denied. Section employees do not need to know all aspects of vault security for safety reasons. I have been assured that had the curse been better designed, this would not have happened.

**Memorandum**

**From: **Arthur Weasley: Head of Section 3

**To:** Obbod: Director of Vault Security

**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Curse overlaps and meltdowns

The problem was not with the design of the curse, which received approval at all stages of the project. The problem was that there were undocumented curses present, some of them rather unstable, and they interacted badly with the new matrix, causing an explosive collapse. We can't prevent this if we don't know what to design for.

**Memorandum**

**From: **Obbod: Director of Vault Security

**To: **Arthur Weasley: Head of Section 3

**Subject:** Re: Re: Re: Re: Curse overlaps and meltdowns

Special permission has been granted by the London Director to give a complete list to a special goblin representative who will be assigned to your office. He will inspect all proposed curses developed by your office and inform you of potential issues. I trust this will prevent future disasters.

**Memorandum**

**From: **Arthur Weasley: Head of Section 3

**To:** All: Section 3

**Subject:** Last week's explosion

London has assigned our Section a goblin representative with a list of all existing vault protections. He will _not_ be able to show us this list, so don't even ask. Please show him all due respect and then some, and I do NOT want to hear any more goblin jokes! This means you, Jenkins!


	41. Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Jeremy theatrically dropped his quill and leaned back to stretch. He'd already gone over his answers twice, and he refused to use the remaining three and a half minutes to check yet again. Off to one side, Kristin tossed him a furious glare between anxious glances at her lengthy History paper. He returned it with his best attempt at a dazzling smile, which only made her look angrier and triggered a chuckle. For better or worse, his NEWTs were over.

* * *

In the last few minutes before the Closing Feast, the entirety of Ravenclaw House was gathered in the Common Room. In absolute silence, the seventh-year prefects stepped onto two of three footstools positioned in a triangle at one end of the room. After a quick glance at one another, the two raised their wands in unison to produce an arch of blue sparks. A fourth-year student bearing a smallish notebook paced slowly under the arch and stepped up onto the leading footstool.

The soft rustle of parchment was heard as the boy opened the notebook to a bookmarked page near the middle. His finger moving along the words, he intoned as well as he could, "This time last year, thirty-five points, twenty for Colin Wellsworth and fifteen for Abbey Tailor, were awarded to Hufflepuff for courage in a moment of danger and with no thought of reward'."

The two prefects had been leaning dangerously far forward to read the page, and all three together they read, "No further explanation. Hufflepuff won the House Cup, five points ahead of Ravenclaw." The entire House bent their heads in mourning.

Nothing more was said as the fourth-year reverently closed the notebook and carried it down to the Closing Feast. The rest of Ravenclaw paced along behind.

Percy was willing to go along with this unexpected tradition, but once he and Romulus had seated themselves at the table, he immediately leaned across to a sixth-year and wanted to know, "What was _that_ about?"

The older boy grimaced. "I take it you've not heard of Dumbledore's little custom, then?" Taking Percy's cautious shrug as a negative, he went on. "See, during the year we all gain and lose House Points. At the end, they're totaled up and the House with the most wins the House Cup. _However_, ever since Dumbledore took over as Headmaster a few decades ago, it's not worked like it's supposed to. You see…wait, he's standing up."

A short speech and thirteen points to Slytherin later, a horrified Percy turned back to the sixth-year, who was now nodding knowingly. "See? He just tosses out points at the feast, no rhyme or reason or even a real explanation. School rumor has it that he keeps a dartboard in his office and whatever House he hits, he gives them enough points that they win. Biggest ever gain was Gryffindor; he gave them a hundred and forty points twelve years ago."

"Then…The Book…" Percy managed to start. At his side, Romulus was making tiny spitting noises as he tried to calm down enough to speak. Down at the end of the table, the fourth-year was making an addition to the notebook.

"The Book was started by a Ravenclaw fourth-year, Dennis Cooper, after witnessing Dumbledore's first year as Headmaster. He intended to keep records of Dumbledore's favoritism and present them if the opportunity ever arose. Unfortunately, he died that summer and never came back to Hogwarts. His best friend brought The Book back and every year since, we've chosen a fourth-year to carry on Cooper's vision."

"Did…did Dumbledore have him killed?" Romulus whispered, his eyes round with horror. Percy had been wondering about that himself.

The sixth-year hesitated, visibly reluctant to spoil the mood. "Well…probably not. It was supposedly an accident; he fell off his broom and broke his neck. And if Dumbledore really killed him, then you'd think he would've destroyed the notebook, but he didn't. And none of the other Book Keeper's have died."

"Oh," Percy answered. It was almost disappointing.

* * *

As of Minerva's visit, Akira Bonni MacFusty was being confined to bed with what was officially being called a severe case of dragonpox, but was actually a breakdown, according to a very worried Camden. Minerva, who had been reading between the lines in the letters she'd recived all winter, was not entirely surprised. Camden, who had just stopped pacing to drop into a protesting chair, groaned and threw his hands into the air.

"I've been doing my best to stay out of her business," the two exchanged wry glances that went far beyond the current situation, "but it's been damned hard when she seems bound and determined to overwork herself. She's always on the go these days."

"She _has_ been taking on a fair number of new…" Minerva started.

"A fair number?!" Camden exploded. "Minerva, the day she came home from the hospital; barely able to walk!, may I add; her light was on until two thirty in the morning! She barely sleeps. Every time I see her, she's either at work, poring over a tome, or seeing how many times she can run circuits of the village before collapsing…yes, collapsing! On a daily basis! You haven't seen her yet, but she looks as though she's been though a round of Cruciatus Curses."

He sighed and his gaze drifted to the opposite wall. "It hurts," he added softly. "I hate seeing her destroying herself."

A soft whump! echoed through the house, causing Camden to groan and climb to his feet. "I'll be right back, apparently she figured out where we hid her wand."

Minerva stared. "What in the…"

He paused in the doorway and glanced back with an amused, resigned expression. "Did I forget to mention that? She put a target on her bedroom wall and practices hexing it. According to the scorch marks, she's actually getting pretty good. However, right now she's supposed to be resting and she knows it!"

Another whump!, and he sighed and trudged off in the direction of his daughter's room.

* * *

All during that visit, and the next, and the one after, Minerva kept her eyes open for Mary and Akira's brother, Iain. Twice she glimpsed him at a distance, but never got near enough to speak to him. After nearly a month, she was forced to conclude that he was avoiding her. After careful consideration, she changed tactics. She stopped asking after him; if she happened to spot him, she pretended she hadn't seen. A few weeks of this seemed to bear fruit, as he grew noticeably less wary. Even so, it was the end of July before she managed to corner the young man.

Not long home from work that day, Iain had grabbed his broom and was striding off towards the moor. Minerva waited until he was far enough away for no one to overhear, then stepped out to confront him. Annoyance flickered across his face before finally fading to a tired resignation. "I don't suppose there's anything I can help you with _besides_ the obvious, Professor?"

Up until that moment, Minerva had had a thousand questions about Mary's odd behavior in the hospital…none of which suddenly sounded sane. How did you ask if a seemingly harmless maiden aunt was a Death Eater? And for that matter, was it a good idea bringing it to Iain, who obviously knew something was up?

The young man caught her sudden confusion and sighed softly before muttering an angry, "Damn it, Mary!" A slump of the shoulders and he offered a nod. "Very well, then; she did bring it on herself. Could we go someplace more private? I don't want the entire village discussing this."

"And what's wrong with right here?" a sudden and _highly_ unexpected voice enquired.

"Mary!" Iain yelped as he whirled to face the woman who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "Damn it, stop _doing_ that!"

A smirk answered him. "Not until it stops being amusing." In a mock-confiding tone to Minerva, Mary went on, "of course, he's never going to learn to stop _making_ it amusing. Poor dear's been trying, and failing, to control his reflexes since he was just a tiny lad."

"Pat my head and I'll bite you," Iain growled. Mary laughed and withdrew the offending limb. There was something very wrong with that laugh.

Minerva tried to unobtrusively reach down to reassure herself that her wand was still in its pocket. Catching the movement (did the gossip miss _anything_?), Mary turned to face the older woman. "Relax, dear, you're in no danger. As a matter of fact, you've rather impressed me. Most people aren't capable of facing reality. Including and especially my dear father, sad to say. Now Iain, he's another like you. Realized what I was _wayyy_ back when he was an ickle lad of nine."

Iain tried to speak up but Mary cut him off. "What was it you said, again? 'Mary, that's a bleedin' psychopath!'" in a devastatingly accurate imitation of her younger brother's voice. "Though perhaps sociopath would have been more accurate?"

Iain sat firmly down on a nearby barrel in a way that he was probably hoping had at least some dignity. Mary was watching him carefully, obviously delighting in his discomfort.

"So why did you decide that 'I' needed to know this about you?" Even Minerva was surprised at how calm her voice was.

She received an appraising look. "Because you've linked yourself to my father, who, as I said, is _not_ capable of facing reality. He hides from it. I needed to know if you make up for his lacks."

"Dragon droppings!" Iain said abruptly. "She did it because she was bored."

A laugh. "That too."

Iain glared at Mary; then turned to Minerva. "Let me tell you a little about my older sister. She has no conscience. Zero, zip, zilch. She stays out of trouble because she prefers a comfortable life. She hides behind the gossipy old maid mask because it's fun to fool people. She loves games, especially if they cause pain. Self-pain caused by self-restraint works _just_ fine."

Mary had settled back to listen with a self-satisfied expression on her face. The legendary cat with the canary could not have been more pleased.

"So why do you…er," Minerva cautiously started.

"Have anything to do with me?" Mary broke in. "Because he's taken it on himself to be my conscience. Because he hopes that someday he'll be able to change me."

"Because she's my sister and I love her," Iain said in a low voice. "We worked out an agreement when we were young. She protected me and in exchange, I tried to curb her behavior. And she saved my life once."

"Ah yes, that." Mary's smile spread even further, but something had crept into her eyes that made Minerva uneasy all over again. "Oh that evening was _so_ enjoyable!"

"What happened?" Minerva asked softly, while making a mental note to _never_ let the twins near Grand-Aunt Mary.

"It was…it was…" Iain suddenly seemed to be having a hard time talking, but he waved his sister off when she seemed to want to break in. "It was when…You Know Who…was coming to power. I was eighteen, home for Christmas. And…and somebody who turned out to be a Death Eater put an Imperius on me."

Either ignoring or not hearing Minerva's horrified gasp, he went on. "It was Christmas Eve and I spent most of the day walking around acting normal, like I'd been ordered. I was supposed to keep that up 'til the evening, then kill my family and anybody else present. And all that day nobody noticed anything was wrong…except Mary."

Said woman stretched like a cat and settled back. The self-satisfied smile had returned, but there was excitement mixed in, for all the world like a child waiting for a favorite part in a story.

"She…she watched me all day, then just before dusk stunned and dragged me off to her basement." He hesitated, his eyes flickering briefly to a barely visible scar on his left hand. A swallow before he continued. "She eventually managed to break the Imperius enough to get some names, then left. The curse vanished suddenly at around midnight. Next day she explained away my appearance by telling everyone I had a hangover."

Iain had said that the Imperius had broken suddenly… "You killed them." Minerva said with a horrible certainty.

"Yes," Mary answered. She paced back and forth, apparently too excited to stand still any longer. She was hugging herself in glee. "They were Death Eaters, all three of them, and I killed them. I killed them!"

"And made sure she left the proof of their 'Death Eater-hood' out in the open," Iain added wearily. "It raised quite a few ethical questions among the Aurors, we later heard. There were some that didn't really want to find the murderer. Not that they did," he added. "Mary apparently covered her tracks quite well."

"I'm not killing anyone else," Mary said almost absently. Her pacing had sped up, as though she were trying to run away from something, and her voice was growing more and more high-pitched. "I like it, and I'd want to do it again. So I can't, because I'd want to kill even more, and eventually I'd get careless and get caught. And I don't want that. So I'm not allowed to kill anyone else."

Her arms wrapped more tightly around her torso. Iain had tears in his eyes as he watched. Minerva was just trying to fight down her revulsion enough to form a coherent response. "It hurts," Mary whimpered. "I want to do it so much it hurts. The agony…it's exquisite..."

She unfolded suddenly and spun around to face Minerva with a little scream of laughter. "I know! You were saying that Hogwarts has a position open. I could be your next Defense teacher! There's _so_ much I could teach the little ones!"

"Over my dead body!"

All the laughter fled Mary's face and the reptile looked out once more. The two women's eyes locked for a long second before the younger unexpectedly chuckled. "Why Minerva! Afraid to let me meet the people you work with? Surely you don't have another beau tied up there!" She wandered off back to the village center, still chuckling.

Iain hesitated a second, then gave the older woman an apologetic grimace before almost running after his sister. Minerva found herself alone under sunshine that now felt freezing.

* * *

Mary was very cheerful at the long table at supper that night, cackling as she passed about a particularly juicy bit of gossip. Iain, by contrast, was silent and left early. Camden watched him with worried eyes before leaning quietly over to Minerva. "Something's wrong, but I can't get him to spill it. He's taken to drinking, and that's not like him. I thought at first he'd gotten dumped, but now I'm starting to wonder."

He frowned for a moment, then started chuckling at something a cousin down the table had just said. Turning once more to Minerva, he muttered, "Anyway, I know Mary's had an eye on him. She'll drag it out of him, and hopefully there'll be something we can do. The two of them have always been close…"

* * *

It was late in the evening when Minerva and the twins returned to the castle. It was even later, past midnight, when a quiet figure slipped out of their rooms and went up to the empty Headmaster's Office. It was locked, but that was no problem for the Assistant Headmistress. On one corner of Dumbledore's desk was a box piled high with as-yet-unopened school mail. Second from the top Minerva found the letter she was looking for. She glanced through it to be sure it was what she thought it was, then sealed it once more. Tucking it into her robes, she slipped back out the door without waking any of the sleeping headmasters' portraits.

It was at her own fireplace that she burned Mary's application for the DADA position.


	42. Folder in the File Cabinet

Minerva walked on eggshells for the next few weeks; but apparently either Mary didn't know about the loss of her job application, or she'd really meant her comment about refraining from violence. Unfortunately, that apparently didn't apply to mind games; which currently meant she was 'happening to run into' Minerva frequently and stopping to have a chat.

Even that wouldn't have been so bad if Mary didn't insist on discussing perfectly innocent topics…with a decidedly dangerous undercurrent hinted at in her choice of phrase. It was horrible how easily a conversation about even the weather could be twisted to mean something else entirely, while never actually saying anything that might tip off a passerby. Iain put a stop to a couple of these, but he could hardly be his sister's full-time keeper.

The day Minerva found herself seriously considering reducing her twice-a-week visits to Dragon Hall was the day when something snapped. Mary could play her little games all she wanted; Minerva was _not_ going to let the little besom run her off. And Mary had better stop finding excuses to be nearby when the twins were playing quidditch with their friends, or Minerva was going to try her hand at Alec's bird-transfiguration trick.

* * *

So this was the 'real world'. It didn't live up to expectations.

It had all seemed so clear when he, Saleem, and Kristin had discussed their post-Hogwarts plans in the distant safety of the Hufflepuff common room. Yet so far, about the only thing that had gone according to outline had been the initial round of Auror tests. The good news was that he'd passed with honors and as long as nothing changed in the next four months, he was guaranteed a spot in the training program. The bad news was…well, what if he _did_ manage to mess up, after all this time and preparation?

Not so long ago, he'd thought muffing the tests would be the worst possible thing that could happen. Now, with that first real glimpse of his goal, he'd come to realize that nothing could compare to coming this far, only to fall short _now_. There were nights when he woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares he couldn't remember, though only because he chose not to. Of course, the atmosphere of his new home didn't help.

The three had managed to find a London flat to rent, though it was a far cry from the comfortable coziness of the Hufflepuff dormitories. Its one virtue was that it was within their meager budget. Among its many _defects_ was that it had roaches. And rats. And plumbing problems that they'd found out about the hard way. (And wasn't it a good thing that Jeremy had thought to put a Shielding Charm on himself before trying to unclog the toilet!) The entire place exuded a tired, run-down atmosphere. And it wasn't in entirely the best of neighborhoods.

They did the shopping in turns, one person each week, and trial and error led to chore assignments that everyone was equally disgruntled with. Jeremy was discovering that he had a flair for cooking, and it was to nobody's surprise that the fussy Saleem wound up doing the lion's share of the housekeeping. What _was_ surprising was that Kristin seemed to be the only one who could actually get the plumbing to work for more than a couple of minutes. General consensus was that it: (A.) had an Unforgivable on it, and (B.) it liked her. In addition to convincing their sinks to work, Kristin did the dishwashing (along with the Repairing Charms when, as usual, she managed to break one or two of the plates) and general maintenance.

Still, there were compensations to adulthood. The chores were annoying, but really took far less time and effort than homework had; and once that was over, there was no fighting for the seats by the fireplace, and no one to set curfews or demand a radio be turned off…at least after they'd soundproofed the walls. Having bed_rooms_ to themselves instead of mere beds was a revelation. Unfortunately, sharing the bathroom with a girl's stuff was also a revelation, a very disturbing one. He hadn't known about a lot of these…things…and he certainly hadn't wanted to know.

No, the 'real world' didn't live up to expectations. But there was a hope and a promise for tomorrow.

* * *

"Where's your wolf head?" the boy next to Hermione suddenly asked.

"What wolf head?" Hermione wanted to know. "I'm Little Red Riding Hood!" She looked the boy over. His wizard's costume was rather plain, not even having a hood or staff, but it looked real; unlike the costumes at the shop Hermione's family went to. There was a dragon embroidered on one sleeve. She suddenly wished hers looked nicer.

"The severed head," he answered impatiently. "The one she cut off and tied to her belt. And then it came back to life and bit Red Riding Hood when she was about to kill the two sisters." He frowned as he eyed her costume. "You're a muggle, aren't you."

She didn't know what that was, but apparently it was a bad thing. "Of course not!"

He looked doubtful. "You're really a witch?"

A witch. Witches only had to worry about princes riding through the woods, and never about people calling names or being rude. And if someone _was_ being nasty, a witch could just snap her fingers and turn them into a frog. It was a new and interesting thought. "Yes, I am."

"Then why didn't your parents ever read Red Riding Hood to you?" He seemed both confused and uncertain now.

"Oh," she managed an unconcerned shrug, "I guess they just didn't like that one."

"Aw, that's too bad!" He was thoroughly in sympathy with her now. "It's a great story. Gran reads it to me sometimes." He hesitated. "She's pretty scary."

"Your Gran?"

"Huh? No, Red Riding Hood! And the werewolf, but it turns out he was helping the sisters. I don't like them as much, they're boring."

"Neville!" an old woman called from within the small shop they stood next to.

"Coming, Gran," he shouted back. Turning back to Hermione, he gave her an awkward bow. "Nice to meet you," he muttered before dashing inside.

"I'm Hermione," she called after him. She thought about saying 'nice meeting you', or 'a pleasure', but it seemed a bit pointless when she'd have to go into the shop to catch up to him.

"Where'd your little friend go?" Mummy asked as she came over, her arms full of shopping bags.

"His grandmother called," Hermione replied. Mummy frowned and looked confused, but then shrugged.

"Oh well, I must have missed that."

As they were walking to the car, Hermione decided to ask. "Mummy, did Red Riding Hood ever have a wolf's head on her belt?"

"What? Well, I suppose after the woodcutter killed the wolf, maybe she would have picked it up, but why would she have it on her belt? That's _nasty_!"

Hermione giggled at Mum's exaggerated expression and let the subject drop, but it bothered her all the rest of the evening.

After getting home from trick-or-treating, Hermione pulled her book of fairy tales off the shelf and paged through it. As Mummy had said, nothing in the story mentioned a wolf head; much less a werewolf, or sisters, or even a Red Riding Hood who was evil enough to hunt people. Hermione carefully closed the book and stared off into space.

The wind gusted outside and threw leaves up against her bedroom window, making her jump. It was a good thing she could ask Danger to sit up and watch for monsters while Hermione slept. Still, as she drifted off to sleep, she could see a tall woman in a red cloak watching her.

Just watching.

Waiting…

* * *

Snow lay on the ground outside and the chill of winter lay in the castle halls. But in Argus' cramped office, a cheerful fire blazed up in a crackling defiance to the frozen world without.

He had always said that a man only needed three things to survive the winter months: a good fire, his cat, and a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Right now he had the fire, and Mrs. Norris was just coming in from patrol. As for the firewhiskey, there was a good portion poured into his mug of hot chocolate. The other mugs scattered around the room also held the mixture, though with a considerably lesser portion of the good stuff. Namby-pamby rules be damned; Argus believed very strongly in training a child up to the way they should go in life. A sip of whiskey never hurt anyone, no matter what the school nurse blathered on about; and the sooner they learned what it was, the better.

Since four of Argus' Army had graduated last spring, the group in the office was rather reduced, despite a couple of new recruits. Ranon, the sole Gryffindor, seemed to be doing his best to fill the empty space in the room by being more cheerful and enthusiastic than usual. Surprisingly, it was actually helping.

"Here, tuck this in the A-C drawer, Miss Benchley." Argus' literally tripping over a student out of bed during the nightly Hide and Seek had resulted in his taking a break long enough to give a dressing down and write out a detention slip. Bitter experience had long ago taught Argus to keep duplicates of every form he filled out. It rarely changed anything, but at least he had ammunition when the Headmaster was trying to, yet again, let a long-time rule-breaker off scot-free. And who knew, perhaps someday there would be a new Headmaster, one who wouldn't be so dratted lenient.

Cassiopeia looked rather alarmed about being asked to touch the sacred file cabinets, but she scooted over and gingerly pulled the drawer open. Locating the correct folder (this had _not_ been the first time Argus had caught this particular Ravenclaw), she tucked it inside. Ranon, who was watching over her shoulder, suddenly exclaimed.

"Sirius Black! That can't be _that_ Sirius Black, surely?"

That folder still caught his eye every time he went into that particular drawer. There were times when he'd considered pulling it, just so he wouldn't have to look at the name every time he filed something between A and C. "It would, actually. Here, hand it over."

Receiving the file from Ranon, Argus hefted the heavy folder thoughtfully. All eyes were fixed on it. "James Potter has the only other one this thick," he commented to no one in particular.

Cassiopeia's eyes widened even more. "_That_ James Potter?!"

"_That_ James Potter," Argus confirmed. "You don't hear about it anymore, but Potter and Black were best of mates in school. If you ever saw one of them alone, it meant you'd better take a quick look behind you. Two others they'd hang out with were…what was his name…somebody Lupus, and Peter Pettigrew. That last one got a medal when he got himself killed right after You-Know-Who's death. Kid was dumb enough to walk right up to Black and confront him. Black blew up the street, and there wasn't enough left of Pettigrew to fit into a teacup."

"How'd Black keep from getting killed?" James wanted to know.

Argus started to answer; then stopped short. "That's…that's actually a very good question. Don't think anyone ever asked that before, and I'm afraid I have no idea. Yes, Miss Benchley?"

Cassiopeia seemed to be having second thoughts about what she'd been going to say. "When you were talking about Black, you sounded…er, you sounded sort of strange."

He sat very still for a long moment. The girl was starting to squirm by the time he finally answered. "I suppose I did." He dropped the heavy folder onto the desk, then had to catch a couple of papers as they tried to escape. "He was a bad un', and the proof's right here. In trouble almost every week for something." He hesitated again, then went on forcefully.

"But if I'd had to pick one brat in that year to go truly bad, it wouldn't have been Black. Merlin's beard, I'd have picked James Potter over him!" He had the fullest attention of everyone in the room, though James and Terry were particularly wide-eyed.

The past seemed suddenly very close, the memories of long-graduated students hovering nearby. "He came from a bad family, the Blacks. A _lot_ of them found themselves in the courts when the war ended. Cousin of his named Bellatrix got herself put into Azkaban for the kidnapping and torture of a pair of Aurors," he caught sight of Neville's suddenly pale face and wished he could bite back the words, "and she wasn't the only one. Black didn't have much to do with most of his relatives, though. Left home at six…no, fifteen and moved in with Potter."

"Right, that's another thing you never hear about, that he pretty much got himself adopted by James Potter's parents. Never heard exactly what happened there, but some way or other the paperwork didn't make it through the courts. Didn't stop him changing his name, though; he called himself Sirius Potter all through sixth and part of the seventh year." A soft chuckle escaped. "Landed him in trouble a fair few times, most of the professors kept calling him by his legal name and he wouldn't answer to it. I forget what finally made him start using Black again."

"Blimey," Ranon breathed weakly. "So you think he was innocent?"

"Well…" Argus hesitated.

"I'm not saying he didn't turn the Potters in or kill those people. _But_…hmph, I suppose you're all too young to remember. There were a lot of people up on trial, pretty nasty stuff, most of it, and there was quite a few of them got off because they said they'd been under the Imperius. And I'm sure some of them were and I'm equally sure more of them _weren't_, but I've always been surprised no one ever considered that someone might have Imperius'd Black."

He was almost speaking to himself now. "They say that when the Aurors arrested the man, right after the street blew up, that he just stood there laughing. Didn't resist, didn't anything. Just laughed. And that's something else you'll see in a lot of people who've been under that Curse, they'll go a little mad, because of what they were forced to and couldn't stop themselves doing."

"Why didn't he say anything at the trial then?" Cassiopeia whispered in horror. Her normally pale face was white enough to be confused for a ghost.

"Ha!" The entire room jumped at the unexpected snort. "_What_ trial? They picked him up and threw him directly into prison, that's what happened. Said they didn't need a trial, not with him being at the scene. He wasn't the only one, either. Big scandal a few years back, actually. Was another guy got copped, no trial, and his family finally managed to prove him innocent. Then he went and died in Azkaban the day before he was supposed to be released. Of course Black just went and escaped. Probably drowned without ever seeing land. Still it's got to have been better than that hellhole of a prison."

He glanced down at the familiar folder, seeing and yet not seeing it. "I never liked the boy, but I think he got a bleedin' bad deal. Anyway," as he picked the folder up and carefully replaced it in the file cabinet, "I'd prefer it if you didn't mention this to anyone, I'd prefer not to get a reputation as the next dark lord. In any case, it doesn't make a difference to _him_ anymore."

Giggles answered this, but in a rather subdued way, and quite a few of them were clearly troubled. Young, they were. Not a one of them had ever before considered that the 'authorities' could make mistakes. Argus had been in the war; he'd seen plenty of incompetence and arrogance and just plain stupidity, not that that present-day leadership seemed any better. Incompetent berks, the lot of them. Hmph.

His gaze flickered to the file cabinet once more, then softened as his eyes became drawn to the twin boys balancing on top of the cabinets.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I do NOT support all of Argus' opinions mentioned in this chapter, most notably alcohol and minors. But it does seem like the kind of thing he'd do, so it got left in. I will also point out that he wasn't trying to get them drunk, merely pouring in enough of the firewhiskey to give the chocolate some flavor.


	43. Reach for the Stars

"We're not proposing replacing _any_ of your stock, Mr. Slug,"Saleem pointed out. "What we'd be doing is _adding_ to it, and creating a specialty line."

"There are twelve Master Alchemists and two labs in London alone," Kristin put in, "and Britain has one of the highest concentrations of alchemists in the world. Unfortunately, many high-end potions have exotic ingredients that can only be bought by mail order or in shady places such as Knockturn Alley. And of course, if someone's in one of the shops down there, not only has the owner racked up _that_ sale, but there's a very good chance that the alchemist will buy other things since he's there anyway. That's bad business for you, since it means that the other shop is busy building up customer loyalty."

That point definitely impressed the apothecary."Quite right, Miss Johnson; I've lost a few customers to just that. Import and purchasing fees run very high, though; what guarantee is there that I won't lose money by stocking your stuff?"

Saleem had been over the numbers so many times that he dreamed about them. "No absolute guarantee, of course, there never is in business." Should he have left that out? Too late now.

"However, I _can_ promise you that my line is far fresher than anything you can get through mail order and has the added benefit that customers will be able to inspect the ingredients before purchasing. It goes without saying that customers will appreciate being able to do _all _their shopping in your clean, reputable establishment instead of having to wander down some back alley."

"Not only that," he went on, "but because the producers will be selling reliably to me and thus to you, I can get you a rate lower than you'd pay for comparable goods. That means you can undercut Knockturn Alley's prices and still make a larger profit than you would normally. My suppliers are happy with the arrangement because steady sales work more to their advantage than an occasional windfall. It also means that as demand grows _here_, they'll be better able to expand their facilities to match."

A nod as the other man again studied the catalog Saleem had handed him at the beginning of the meeting. "I don't see sphinx claws on here. I've had customers ask for them."

Saleem managed to keep himself from wincing. "I'm afraid I don't stock those yet, Mr. Slug. Dealing in sphinx claws requires a Class B Restricted license, which I plan to apply for in another year or so." What he didn't say was that in a year he hoped to have the _money_ to apply. Start up costs had completely wiped out his savings. The only reason he was eating at the moment was because Jeremy was quietly covering both Saleem's and Kristin's portions of the grocery bill.

The shopkeeper grunted; his eyes narrowed in thought. His gaze drifted over to the broom closet in the back of the store, which Saleem had proposed converting to a storeroom devoted to exotic ingredients. It was an idea he'd had since second year, and he'd spent the rest of his school years researching and preparing. If Slug didn't want to buy from him, there were other potion supplies shops, but Slug and Jiggers Apothecary was the biggest and most popular in Diagon Alley and would give his business the fastest start.

"High quality ingredients, I assume," Slug put in abruptly.

"Of course!" Kristin answered immediately. "Would you like to inspect some of our line?" Even as she spoke, she was removing bottles and bags from her purse and carefully laying them out on the table. Dried Mummy's Breath stalks came out, next to a bag wriggling with Bor's Maggots (_"Sandcrest-fed their entire lives," Kristin put in enthusiastically_), molten Goldclover (_"picked right as they reached the boiling point!"_) shimmered next to deep black Phasing Ox-leopard blood, while deceptively beautiful Egyptian Kraken flowers (_"from a variety bred for large, potent blossoms and minimal tentacles"_) lured the eye to the center of the table.

"I've inspected my suppliers' facilities personally, and I can guarantee they produce consistently superior goods," Saleem said when he judged Slug had looked long enough. Of course, while completely true, there was no need to mention that Saleem had found many of these suppliers through family connections in Egypt. So far he was limiting himself to African potion supplies, but if this took off, there were a couple of places in Mongolia he wanted to approach. Quite a few members of his extended family were able to boast of the businesses they'd built, and Saleem had no intention of being the one failure in the family. He planned to be the top supplier in Britain within ten years, the world within twenty-five. First things first, though…

Two hours later, when he and Kristin finally left the shop, Slug had agreed to purchase a limited line as a trial. While it wasn't as big an order as Saleem had been hoping, it did do very well as a start.

"You were amazing, Kristin! You had him eating out of your hand!"

She laughed and twirled around on the spot, triggering a startled look from the wizard she'd almost bumped into. "Oh come on, you were the one doing all the work! I'm glad you invited me along, that was a lot more interesting that I thought it'd be."

So was he, very glad indeed. He watched her bouncy stride out of the corner of his eye as they headed for the Leaky Cauldron. She was far happier today than she had been of late. Of the three of them, she was the only one still jobless, and it had really been telling on her spirits. Unfortunately, there were only a few troll trainers in Britain, and none of them seemed interested in hiring her. After having visited a couple of these places, Saleem was beginning to suspect that it might be her body type. While not at all fragile, Kristin still didn't match up to the hulking, burly types that dominated the field. Apparently her excellent charms work counted for exactly nothing.

He wondered if she knew just how beautiful she was right now.

* * *

Minerva was missing yet another chunk out of her sleep schedule. Her robes were soaked, her hair was halfway out of its formerly neat bun, and James had accidentally kicked her in the ear, but she was having the time of her life.

Mr. Filch had come through on his promise to teach the boys to swim, but had quickly decided that the lake was "just too damn cold". Instead, he'd blithely put an Out Of Order sign on the door to the prefects' bathroom and had a very reluctant Minerva cast a locking spell in case any of "the lawless little beasts" persisted. Then the two of them had taken on the herculean task of trying to get the boys to breath by turning their heads to the side, not "No, no, no, don't _lift_ your head!"

After only a couple of lessons, she had to admit that James had a magnificent dog-paddle. Terry was a completely different matter. He 'swam', in Argus' words, like a stone erumpent. He spent so much time on the bottom that Minerva had put a Bubbleheaded Charm on him, only to realize that she'd created a monster. Terry _liked_ it underwater! The instant he realized he no longer had to surface for air, he put his imagination to work figuring out how to push himself along. Between James' wild splashing kicks and Terry creeping around grabbing ankles, the huge tub was not a safe place to be.

Feeling something brush by her foot, Minerva stooped and seized Terry; hoisting him above the waves as he shrieked in laughter. James immediately splashed over to help his brother, only to be derailed by a tickle attack.

Mr. Filch was currently across the room trying to sweet-talk Mrs. Norris, who was sitting on a chair as far from the water as she could get, furiously grooming herself. Perhaps he would be forgiven later, but for now, Argus' blandishments were being pointedly ignored. Finally giving up, he stumped back to the bath and carefully lowered himself back into it, pausing only to give Spiderlady a baleful look as the Treeclimber pranced out of the tub and shook the water out of her coat.

Minerva suppressed a laugh. The spider-dog might not be helping, but it wasn't as though she was responsible for even the vast majority of the water on the floor. In any case, the old caretaker needn't act so grumpy when it would be Minerva drying the mess up tonight, not him. There were more important things right now, such as figuring out just where under all the bubbles Terry had gotten to _this_ time.

Another wave washed over the floor as Spiderlady, barking loudly, followed James as he launched himself back into the bath.

* * *

Percy threw the stick perhaps a little…well, all right, a _lot_ harder than he'd really needed to. Rover shot off after it and came proudly back with it in his mouth. He slowed as he came close and anxiously looked up at his master's face. Apparently deciding that Percy still needed cheering up, Rover reared up on his hind legs and tried to take a few steps. Unfortunately, the bear-like dog wasn't built for standing upright and promptly fell over. Bounding instantly back to his feet, Rover recaptured the stick and offered it to Percy, who couldn't help a small smile. "Good ol' Rover," he murmured as he tousled the big dog's ears.

The smile faded, and Percy sighed. Rover whined and shoved his head under Percy's hand, then carefully turned around once or two, glanced up at Percy's face again, and flopped down at his feet. It was an invitation Percy hadn't seen since before Hogwarts, but he badly needed it now. Careful not to accidentally hurt his best friend, he eased himself down until he was curled up on the ground with his head pillowed on Rover's chest.

They lay there for quite a while, Rover's tail thumping on the ground and Percy absently stroking his head. The pressure built up inside and he couldn't keep it tucked away any more. A stinging tear of anger and humiliation slowly trickled down. "Am I a coward?" Rover jerked and almost got up, but quickly lay back. Unable to reach his boy's face, he settled for licking Percy's hand and whining.

Percy patted his dog, but his mind was elsewhere. Seventh-year Robin Whimpledinger had been clearly breaking school rules when Percy had caught him in the library writing rude words in margins and scratching out important lines. But to Percy's shame, when he'd confronted the other boy, Whimpledinger had laughed at him and sneeringly asked if he was going to fetch a teacher. Percy almost _had_, but pride held him back. Unable to leave and unable to make himself _do_ anything, Percy had hung around agonizing for an endless quarter hour until Whimpledinger had left.

_Then_ phrases began to occur to him: the things he should have said, the things he should have done…but hadn't. In the end, he'd taken one of the books and carefully wrote 'Robin W. was here' in large letters across the title page, then left it and some of the others open on a table where Madam Pince would be sure to find them.

Whimpledinger had gotten detention, and Percy heard that the boy had had to go to the hospital wing with multiple book bites, including one infected with mold. But a week later, the incident was very much still on Percy's mind. Dealing with older kids in primary school had taught him that words were usually not the most effective way to stop a troublemaker. His personal code required him to make the punishment fit the crime. He was good at getting people to behave and had yet to be caught at it. But did that make it right? And did striking behind their backs make him a coward?

It was nearly midnight by the time Percy slowly made his way back to the kennel where Rover was being boarded, then sneaked back into the castle and up to his bed. He still didn't have any answers. But he couldn't think what else to do, either.

* * *

"But I've got great marks in Care of Magical Beasts!" Charlie pointed out urgently. There had to be some mistake!

"I can see that," Professor McGonagall replied. "I'm afraid that you'll need much more than that to get a position at a dragon reserve, however. It is a _very_ demanding job." Beady eyes studied him; regretfully, he thought.

Charlie forced himself not to panic. His fifth-year advising was going all wrong. He couldn't really be _that_ unprepared for a career in dragon management…could he? No, there had to be some way out of this! "So what else do I need?" he managed to ask.

Her sympathetic glance was somehow worse than her stern stares. "Transfiguration, for one, and I do not take any OWLs under an E. Potions, and Professor Snape requires an O; Herbology…yes indeed," at his startled reaction, "you'll need to know the diets of the creatures the dragons eat; Muggle Studies, which is critical and you have not even taken; Charms…"

"I bloody hate Charms," Charlie muttered before he could stop himself.

There was definitely a twinkle in her eye as she looked at him. "So did I, when I was your age. As a matter of fact, if it hadn't been for my sister, I would most likely have failed that OWL," she confided.

E's and O's. Charlie thought back over his own grades, most of which probably averaged A's, or in the case of Charms, P's. There wasn't enough time in the day, even for the classes he _was_ good at. Heck, four evenings alone were taken up by quidditch practice! Gryffindor was enjoying a strong season so far; and without being conceited, Charlie knew that his skill as a Seeker was a respectable part of what was aiming Gryffindor straight for the Cup. There was even speculation that he was on the shortlist for Team Captain next year, since Murphy was graduating this spring.

The Professor had been watching him, but now she gently spoke up. "It's not the end of the world, Mr. Weasley. There are plenty of other careers out there. You could probably make quite a name for yourself in professional quidditch. Professor Vector thinks very highly of you in Arithmancy, perhaps banking might be another option?"

"I'm not ready to give up yet, Professor," Charlie managed to say. Hard as he tried to hide it, there was a noticeable quaver in his voice. "Er, I'm not trying to be rude, but how sure are you that I'll need all those?"

"Quite sure," she answered firmly. "My late husband was a MacFusty."

He couldn't help a gasp. _Everybody_ knew about the MacFusty clan and the Hebridian Black dragons…well, everybody aside from his entire year…and most of Gryffindor, come to think on it…

"Mr. Weasley…" she started.

"Professor, what would it take to get my grades up to scratch?"

Her mouth snapped shut and they stared at one another for perhaps the longest minute of his life. She finally broke contact and looked down at the parchments on her desk. "I see two E's, several A's, and a P. Your OWLs are in two months. You would have to spend _all_ of that time either studying or practicing your wandwork, and even that's no guarantee of success. You haven't taken Muggle Studies at all, how do you intend to get around that?"

He thought hard. He'd missed two years worth of the subject already, and while he'd heard Professor Burbage accepted people with grades as low as an A, there was still the fact that he wasn't even eligible to _take_ that OWL.

"I…" he started hesitantly, "…I forget about it for right now." He did his best to ignore Professor McGonagall's suddenly raised eyebrows. "I get through my OWLs, then as soon as I go home this summer I borrow Bill's old books and start reading. I'll…I guess I can ask Professor Burbage for permission to audit her class next fall, and hopefully by seventh-year I'll have caught up enough to test into the class proper. Then I take my NEWT, and if I pass, that should keep them from worrying about a missing OWL."

He'd succeeded in impressing her. "That is…a _very_ ambitious plan. It's also going to be next to impossible to pull off. Are you _sure_ you're going to be able to drive yourself that hard, day after day after endless day? I want you to think carefully about that, now."

"I've dreamed about working with dragons since I was four." Charlie felt his fists clench. "I will _not_ give up now. Not like this."

Her expression softened. "Very well. Then there are only two more things. Firstly, your Potions grade is currently at a high P. Since I suspect that Professor Snape will not be willing to tutor you," she raised a sardonic eyebrow at _that_ idea, "I am willing to offer my classroom and guidance for two hours each week on Sunday. I am not the Master he is, but I did make an O on my Potions NEWT. In addition, _if_ you pull your other OWLs up high enough, I am willing to make an exception and allow you into my Transfiguration class with a grade as low as an A. This is of course assuming that you will work to catch up during the course of the year."

He nodded determinedly. "Thank you, Professor. I'll do my best to not need that exception."

A smile appeared on her face. "I would certainly hope so, but if you do have to choose between studying for Transfiguration or for another class, put the other class first. Professor Snape is not as forgiving as I am. Or forgiving at all," she added thoughtfully. "Secondly…" She hesitated.

His stomach suddenly dropped out from beneath him. "I'm not going to have time for quidditch, am I."

She shook her head very slowly, and, he thought, regretfully. "As much as I don't want to lose Gryffindor's best Seeker in over forty years, no. No, you're not."

Panic filled him once more. Give up quidditch?! Gryffindor had only two more games to fight for the Quidditch Cup that he knew rested on a barren shelf in Professor Snape's office. The reserve Seeker was good, but Jones didn't have that fine edge that was often the difference between catching the Snitch or losing it to the other team. And what of the future? He was going to have a very heavy course load during the next two years, with none of it being subjects he dare blow off. Quidditch was every bit as time consuming. Even the reserves were expected to put in large amounts of training, and he'd been aiming for the captaincy. Finding time for both would be next to impossible.

He thought of his choices: a quidditch star against a dirty, sweaty, singed researcher. A career he _knew_ was within reach, against a dream that might well already be beyond hope. The easy path against striving for the stars and maybe finding they were within reach after all.

He wasn't a quitter.

Charlie Weasley raised his head and met Professor McGonagall's gaze. "Then so be it. Professor, I'd like to hand in my resignation as Gryffindor Seeker."

There were tears in her eyes too. But they were tears of pride.

* * *

**Author's note: **I apologize for how long it took to get this chapter out. I took a break near the beginning to work out the increasingly complicated timeline, and BOY am I glad I did. (Let's just say that I'd known a bunch of stuff was coming up, but I hadn't realized it was quite THAT soon) Then, after I'd pretty much finished the chapter, I took a moment to look up something quidditch-related and realized that either I'd misremembered Charlie's quidditch timeline or Rowling ret-conned it because it WAS off. So that part had to be modified, and I think it's turned out stronger. Regardless, it wasn't much fun having to do it ;-)

I also owe you all an apology from last chapter, as I was looking over the story and realized I hadn't done review responses for the old chapter yet. Oops.

Hope you all are enjoying your summer vacations! MoriasDepths


	44. Summer of '89

Minerva pursed her lips as she picked up the next envelope. Let's see, Weasley…Fred and George Weasley, she mentally clarified as she slit the letter open and glanced over the reply form. Well, if they were anything like Bill or Charlie Weasley, they'd be a joy to…wait, what was _that_? She picked up the note that had fallen out.

Mrs. Weasley had apparently felt the need to add a warning. "As they will most likely be in your House…good-hearted but mischievous…will need close supervision…" Minerva made a mental note, but didn't really worry about it. They couldn't be _that_ bad…

* * *

Vincent was to stay near Draco Malfoy and to do whatever the other boy wanted him to. He was not to read, think up math problems, 'see' anything behind walls or beneath clothing, or talk about anything having to do with school while he was at Malfoy Manor. He was not to _ever_ say the name 'Weasley' while he was anyplace Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy might overhear. Did Vincent understand?

Vincent understood. He didn't say it to Dad, but it meant that he was in for yet another boring day. Every Sunday during the school year, Dad took him over to Malfoy Manor to spend time with Malfoy and Gregory. Vincent knew well enough why. For over a century, a Crabbe and a Goyle had followed a Malfoy through school and out into the world. They obeyed his orders, and in return he watched after them. (Or so Dad _said_, but something ugly always crept into his voice when he came to the last part.) It didn't matter that Vincent got better grades than Malfoy did; he was still supposed to become a glorified house elf.

Glorified! _Glorified!_ Vincent had only discovered the word this morning, and he was still drunk on it. The dictionary said it came from the same root as glorious, but that it implied that something _wasn't_ very good. He loved words. Whenever he got a new book, he curled up with it and a dictionary and lost himself on a sea of meanings. _Anything_ became special when it was written down! He'd even tried writing a few stories of his own, but they weren't as good as the real thing. In any case, he wasn't allowed to read during his visits.

Malfoy seemed bored today. They wound up walking around the back garden for a while because he couldn't think of anything else to do, then they had to come inside again when he said he was sick of the heat. It wasn't _that_ bad, but their master had commanded it, so they all went back in. Vincent could hear Lucius Malfoy talking to his and Gregory's fathers, but he couldn't quite make out the words. Malfoy hesitated, then put a finger to his lips and sneaked over to a back staircase. They crept about halfway up, then the pale boy crouched down and pressed his back against the wall. "They're in the study," he whispered as he pointed his sharp chin towards the unseen room.

The voices were coming through much better now, and it was fairly easy to make out the words. The elder Malfoy seemed to be in a good mood. He was going on about some wizard who had recently lost his head and gone to live with a muggle girl. Apparently the man's family had taken matters into their own hands and "paid him a visit" one night. Lucius was going on in very interesting detail about what exactly had happened when Vincent happened to glance over at Draco Malfoy**,** who was paler than usual and shaking. It took a lot of courage, but Vincent reached out and shook his 'superior's' shoulder.

"Did you want to go up to your room?"

Malfoy didn't seem to recognize the question at first, but then he managed a nod. The instant his bedroom door shut behind him, he whirled towards his companions and almost shouted, with his fists clenched, "They were people, too!"

Vincent could see Gregory's face, and it looked as confused as Vincent felt. "Who? The two your father was talking about? She was a _muggle!_" in case Malfoy had missed that part.

"Well yes, but _he_ wasn't! And they just…just _slaughtered_ him!"

Vincent still didn't understand what was wrong. "He was a _blood traitor_! He tried to marry a muggle, Draco!" He suddenly realized he was arguing and had to stop to think. Was this something a Crabbe wasn't supposed to do? Or was it all right unless he was told to shut up?

The other boy slammed his fist against a bookshelf. It looked as though it should have hurt, but Malfoy didn't seem to notice. "So what! He was still a wizard! They should have reasoned with him or modified his memory or something! Not killed him!"

As Vincent opened his mouth to argue back, Malfoy snapped, "Besides, have you forgotten that the Weasleys are blood traitors?! That's what Father says, anyway." He turned away suddenly and stood facing the bookshelf with his head down and fists white-knuckled.

Vincent stood stunned. He'd known that Mrs. Weasley didn't think muggles were all that bad. He'd seen her tell off a child for using the word mudblood, and he had been aware that some of the things they used in class had been bought from muggle stores. But he'd never _quite_ put the pieces together. Sudden terror seized him and he gasped out, "They won't kill her, will they?!"

Malfoy turned to look at him, and a similar fear flickered in the back of his eyes. "I don't know. That's why I haven't told Father about her." Rather sharply, "I notice _your_ dad hasn't, either."

There was a silence. "Who?" Gregory finally grunted. Vincent's and Draco's gazes met again before the pale boy turned to his second companion.

"It doesn't matter. Forget about it." He hesitated a second, then continued as Gregory still looked uncertain, "Are you hungry? I'll have Dobby bring up some biscuits." The confusion vanished instantly and Gregory brightened. "Sure!"

The other two shared one more glance as the house elf appeared. Underneath the spoken words, a silent agreement had sprung up. If anything ever happened to Mrs. Weasley, it wouldn't be because of _them_.

* * *

"…happy birthday James and Terrrr-ry, happy ninth birthday to you!"

Laughter and shouts filled the room as the twins quickly stepped up to opposite sides of a large cake with a quidditch-field design. "Get ready," Gran called. She tightened her grip on Spiderlady's collar to keep the excited treeclimber from skittering over and getting in the way. "All right: one, two, threeeee…GET HIM!"

James lunged forward and frantically tried began sticking Bludger-shaped candies into the cake, even as Terry did the same from his side. The icing figure of a Seeker kept darting around the top, but as the boys added more candies, he had fewer and fewer places to go until finally James slapped down the last candy and the Seeker froze in place.

Gran, who was holding a stopwatch, called out, "Fourteen seconds! That's three under last year!" The cheering increased in volume and James quickly threw a couple of dramatic bows, only to be knocked over when Gran let go of Spiderlady's collar and the treeclimber dashed across the room.

Other children had candles on their cakes, Neville said. He and Terry never had. For years, Gran had put various toys on their cakes or had unlit candles, but she'd switched to the bludger-candies a couple years ago. Apparently she'd caught a couple of her students using them in class to try and knock a toy broom off their desk, and after taking points, it had struck her that they might be good for cakes. So now he and Terry got to play 'Trap the Seeker' for their birthday. The only problem was that Terry sometimes got a bit overeager and would accidentally smack the cake while he was sticking a candy in. That thought reminded James, and he started licking the frosting off the side of his hand.

Lots of people had come to their birthday party; Neville, of course; and Professor Dumbledore; Hagrid and Akira; Poppy standing next to Argus and Mrs. Norris; everybody in Argus' Army; and Jeremy, Kristin, and Saleem, who had come up for the occasion. Jeremy had made it into the Auror training program and he'd promised to tell them all about it. Kristin was still jobless, but Saleem said that his business probably wouldn't have taken off had it not been for all her hard work. Right now, Hagrid and Kristin had their heads together and were talking animatedly about something, probably about Hagrid's latest pet, which he'd promised to show them tomorrow so long as they didn't tell anyone.

Cake having been passed around, the James and Terry both turned to the large collection of gifts. Neville's gift of a large package of chocolate frogs was enthusiastically received (Hey, maybe Morgana Le Fay will be in this one!), and an unmarked package, which James knew was from Argus, turned out to be a pair of beater bats and the balls to go with them! Gran had been warily eying Hagrid's present, which was somewhat large and appeared to be moving, but he'd regretfully promised her that it wasn't alive. Ten minutes later, it turned out to be a toy dragon that walked around, flapped its wings, and even attacked a miniature castle!

The party was one of the best James could remember. Camden hadn't been able to make it, due to a dragon that had gone wandering off the reserve and blundered into a muggle town, but he'd sent his congratulations and a promise to take them over to Zonko's once he'd gotten the dragon taken care of. Akira _was_ present. She seemed to be enjoying herself, but James caught her staring into space more than a couple times, which worried him because he remembered the _last_ time she'd acted like that at his and Terry's birthday.

Jeremy came over then, holding a mysterious bundle that turned out to be fireworks. He couldn't _wait_ to try out the tree one…or the spears…or the dragon!

* * *

Akira stayed after the party to help clean up. She made for odd company, alternating between cheerfulness one moment and thoughtful silence the next. Minerva wasn't really surprised when Akira suddenly asked if they could talk.

The answer was 'certainly', but not until Minerva had gotten the twins off to bed. This seemed to be fine, and Akira did what she could to help. Chore finally finished, she and Minerva settled down on opposite ends of the big sofa. Considering Camden's reports of Akira's withdrawal from clan life and pushing herself physically to the point of collapse, Minerva was sure she knew what to expect. Instead, the healer managed to surprise her.

After digging around in her bag, Akira pulled out an envelope and silently handed it over. Minerva raised her eyebrows before pulling out a sheet of heavy parchment. She had to read it over a couple times before the words made sense. She glanced up in shock. "Akira, this…is it real?"

There was no mistaking the broad smile that suddenly appeared on the young woman's face. "It is. I passed the exams and the MLE would be delighted to take me on. You're the first to know, by the way; I've not even told dad. I wasn't sure how I was going to do, and I didn't want to raise any hopes."

Magical Law Enforcement. Suddenly Akira's strange actions over the past year made a lot more sense. The target practice, running laps until the point of collapse, spending her spare time reading…why, she'd been _training_, not going mad! Of course, Akira probably _had_ been overdoing things, but then, the MLE exams were notoriously hard.

"Congratulations!" She got up to give Akira a hug. "I'm _so _happy for you! Camden will be relieved, he's been fretting."

The young woman glanced down. "I know. But I didn't want to say anything in case I failed, and anyway, I guess I had some sorting out to do." She tapped her forehead and a wry smile twitched at her lips. "Nothing like being turned into a bird to make you want to revisit your priorities."

"I can imagine," Minerva fervently agreed.

Akira nodded. "It's a bit of a change from healing, but Minerva, I'm not the only Akira out there. There are other Alecs out in the world. If I can help even a few of those women… He cursed me a couple of times; did I ever tell you that?" She went on without waiting for an answer. "It was always _my_ fault, something _I_ did wrong. And the worst part was: I believed the whole thing. It matched so perfectly to my view of myself that it never occurred to me that it might be something wrong with _him_."

"Oh, Akira," Minerva felt like crying as she took Akira's hands and held them. But the young woman shook her head.

"I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me; really, I'm not. I'm just saying that I _know_ what these women are going through, because I've been there. I'm the type who attracts losers, and I've been through my share of hell. I can use that to help others climb out of _their_ personal hells." Her eyes were steady as she met Minerva's gaze.

Mischief sparkled suddenly. "Besides, if I work for the MLE, perhaps the Department of Vital Statistics will be forced to admit that I _might_ just possibly be alive."

"What, still?!" Minerva exclaimed, allowing herself to be drawn into the change of subject.

"Still," Akira confirmed with a disgusted look. "They insist that I was legally declared dead and that I've yet to prove that I'm really Akira MacFusty, blah, blah, blah…bureaucracy at its best. I sometimes wonder just what they'd do if I dropped dead for real."

* * *

"Charlie…Charlie!" Mum was calling from the back door. "Get in here, Professor McGonagall's come to see you!"

Charlie gulped and jumped off his broom before racing for the house, it being faster than trying to ride the rickety thing. Behind him, there was a 'thud' as George lost a battle with gravity.

The professor looked up with a smile as he came dashing in. "Mr. Weasley! I do apologize for not letting you know I would be dropping in, but this was somewhat spur of the moment. It is a couple of days early, but would you like to see your grades? Thank you, Molly," she added as Mum bustled in with a tea tray and settled down on one of the chairs.

"Charlie isn't in trouble, is he?" she wanted to know.

"No, no!" Professor McGonagall quickly assured her. "I simply wanted to do a follow-up on his advising from last spring. There was one other thing, but I'll leave that until the end. Speaking of which, how are Muggle Studies going, Mr. Weasley?"

"Better than I expected," Charlie admitted. "Dad's interested in muggle stuff and apparently I've picked up more than I'd thought." He eyed the envelope she'd handed him and tried to force his hands to stop shaking. It didn't work. Trying to gain time, he asked, "You already know what I made?"

"I haven't seen this particular sheet, but I did get the raw numbers from the Ministry. Congratulations, by the way."

Charlie had just managed to get the envelope open and was glancing over the grades. A sigh of relief escaped and he handed his results over to Mum, who was on the edge of her chair. "Three O's and a trail of E's. Though it looks as though I'll be taking you up on your offer, Professor; I got A's in Transfiguration and Divination."

"You missed an E by a single point," she answered tartly. "I'm not particularly worried about you being able to keep up. Though I must say, couldn't you have gotten _one_ more answer correct?"

Charlie flushed and was about to mumble something when he noticed the twinkle in her eyes. She held up her hand and turned to Mum, who had been eyeing those A's with consternation. "Charles had been having issues with another class, so I told him that he would be best off putting more effort into that other class, so long as he agreed to work to catch up this upcoming year. He fulfilled his part of the bargain, and I have no qualms about accepting him into the class."

Mum still looked dubious, but apparently decided to back off. Charlie gave Professor McGonagall a grateful look for her vagueness. He would never hear the end of it if Mum found out that he'd been in danger of failing so many of his classes.

"There is…one more thing," the Professor said slowly. "Mr. Weasley, I believe you know that you were one of the front-runners for the quidditch captaincy?" Having asked this, she went right over his stumbling reply. "I had not planned to ask you this, owing to your extremely heavy workload, but do you think you would be interested? From your performance last spring, I think you would be capable of it."

"Whitley…" Charlie started.

"Mr. Whitley is not at your caliber," she interrupted curtly. "Both Slytherin and Ravenclaw fielded very strong teams last year, and I expect most of them to return this year. You tell me, is Mr. Whitley up to the challenge?"

He thought it over. Kevin was a strong Chaser, but tended to focus on his part to the exclusion of everything else. No, the Professor was right; Kevin would probably not be the best pick. Allison was better, but she'd said many times that she didn't want the responsibility.

He looked up. "If it comes to a choice between quidditch and grades, I've already told you which I'll pick. But I don't think it'll come down to that."

"I don't either, Mr. Weasley," she said. Her hand opened to reveal the gold Captain's badge.

* * *

Rover got up and circled three times, then settled back down on his cushion in Percy's room. It was already past two in the morning and sleep refused to drop by. He blamed Professor McGonagall for that one. She'd been perfectly nice and had even scratched his ears the way he liked it, but something about her scent reminded him far, _far _too strongly of times past.

The faces of James and Lily Potter seemed to float before him in the darkness of the night. Gone forever, but never forgotten. No matter how hard he tried…

* * *

**Author's Note:** Apologies for the long wait, but with vacation (first in years and had a BLAST!) and late summer classes (ugh, Statistics), I haven't had much time to put into writing. On the plus side, I now know how to calculate the exact odds that I'll pull a king of hearts from a deck of cards, which will come in handy when and if I take up gambling. Heh.

For those of you who have been asking for Remus, I have NOT forgotten him, don't worry. As far as the story's concerned, he HAS been rather in the background lately, but that will be changing soon. I promise, you'll have more Remus very shortly now.

Hope you all are enjoying your summers! FOR VACATION!


	45. Fight For Your Rights

'The one good thing about this debacle,' Minerva thought savagely as she refolded the Prophet, 'was that at least this would get Poppy to stop hinting about publishing a paper on werewolf pup behavior. Albus could talk all he wanted about acceptance; but deep down, people didn't really change, and the current furor was proof of it.'

At the very beginning of January, a young woman had announced that she was pregnant. She also happened to be a werewolf. Instead of baby showers and cutesy cards, she was being condemned by the Daily Prophet, receiving death threats (amazing how the Prophet had somehow managed to report those in an approving manner), and was scheduled to go before the Wizengamot for the 'crime' of bearing a child.

Ebenezer Conrald had gone on record saying that he would "fight tooth and nail to topple an unjust law that should _never_ have existed in the first place". Presumably Remus had also had something to say, but he hadn't managed to get himself quoted; werewolf and activist or not. His _picture_ had made it into this morning's edition for some reason, but they hadn't bothered to spell his name correctly. By contrast, Michael Brown had not only been deemed worthy of a picture, but they'd also given him a four-paragraph block-quote along with a couple of miscellaneous lines. Minerva resisted the urge to spit on the self-righteous bastard's face and handed the Prophet off to Filius.

Her mood didn't improve as she surveyed the Great Hall. While a respectable percentage of the students subscribed to the paper, a distressing number of them had turned immediately to the sports, entertainment, or gossip sections. Far too few of them seemed to be at all interested in the unfolding drama.

The Staff Table was a very different story. Albus appeared to be filling out the crosswords, but the levitating section in front of him kept flipping back and forth from the headlines to the articles inside. Pomona was (as usual) glancing from her fried eggs to Filius' paper while he (also as usual) was pointing out lines of particular interest. Their murmuring back and forth was a familiar buzzing drone. Poppy was idly doodling on hers as she stared thoughtfully into space, while Irma Pince was systematically reading through the paper section by section and painstakingly refolding each page as she finished it. Even as Minerva watched, Argus started negotiations (_not_ as usual) with Irma for the first three pages of the Prophet. Succeeding after a quick, complicated exchange, he retreated to his seat, where he began re-reading the title story. He managed to keep from glancing at the twins, but his eyes were worried.

Severus was fascinating to watch. While his utterly still face gave away nothing, he was studying the article very closely and visibly re-reading certain sections. When he finally finished, he sat back in his chair and his thick brows pulled together. Yet the overall impression was of thoughtfulness, not outrage, which worried Minerva. With any luck, he was merely contemplating a letter to the editor. Even if he wasn't, she couldn't think of much of anything he could sabotage the case with.

As Minerva reached for the jam and began spreading it on her French toast, she idly wondered what Sybil was up to. Probably interpreting newspaper wrinkles to figure out who would be seeing a Grim in the near future…

* * *

Well, they weren't making their fortunes but they wouldn't be ruined, and if they didn't have cake; why, at least they had bread…or so one of her mother's favorite sayings went. As far as Kristin could figure out, it seemed to be a terribly long and complicated way of saying that things could be worse. Given that, the next logical question was why on earth the phrase kept running through her head. Gah! Not even twenty yet, and she was already turning into her mother!

"What's wrong?" Saleem wanted to know. His quill paused as he looked up from the inventory.

"Nothing." She could see the alarm bells ringing and quickly headed him off. "No, it really is nothing. Just something that randomly popped up."

He looked dubious, but nodded. "All right." There was a few second's pause and a glance down at his clipboard; just long enough to pretend that he wasn't reacting to the 'nothing'.

"By the way, Kristin, I just wanted to you know that you are amazing. You're the most talented businesswoman I've ever met, and this business probably wouldn't exist if it weren't for everything you've put into it." His gaze caught and held hers.

That was Saleem. His compliments might not be as flowery as some, but he meant every word of them. It seemed he was considering adding something else, but was visibly teetering. Courage failed at the last second and he picked another topic. "Kristin, I know you're trying to get into the troll training field, but you've put so much into this," gesturing around, "I'd like to formally make you a partner. Kneph and Johnson Exotic Potions Supplies, what do you think?

Kristin's mouth fell open. Give up trolls? And yet, he was right. This may have began as helping out while looking for a job, but truthfully, not only was it becoming painfully obvious that there were too many people fighting for too-few training positions, but she was actually _enjoying_ the retail business. Why not? It wasn't like she wasn't already doing all the work of a partner.

A broad grin split her face as she held her hand out. "I accept, if you're really fool enough to hand me half the reins."

He laughed and shook her hand. "As I said, I'm just formalizing what's already happened."

She was still curious, though, so in the relaxed atmosphere she decided to ask, "so just what _was_ so nerve-wracking that you brought up this instead?"

The laughter vanished as though it had never been and she _saw_ him screw up his courage. "I was wondering…wondering about a different kind of partnership."

All the pieces of a puzzle were in front of her, but she couldn't quite see the picture. "What?"

He gulped. "Kristin, willyoumarryme?" Panic won out. "I know, I should have done this properly, dinner and a ring, but it didn't quite work out and I can't really afford a ring right now, anyway," his eyes dropped to his shoes, "I'm sorry, this probably wasn't what you wanted to hear but I was hoping maybe…"

She put a finger over his lips. "Saleem, shhh."

* * *

A few minutes later, a clerk poked his head into the specialty storeroom to see if he could start cleaning yet. He shut the door much faster than he'd opened it and walked away grinning. The dim, smelly storeroom wasn't _his_ idea of a good place to kiss, but if it suited them…

* * *

"Lavender, stop letting go of my hand!" her older sister exclaimed. It wasn't the first time she'd said it, but this time Daddy gave an exasperated sigh and stopped.

"Morgana, keep a tighter hold on your sister. Lavender, do you want me to send you home?"

"No," she answered quickly. Her eyes dropped to the floor and she scuffed the toe of her shoe on the thick carpet.

Daddy gave a nod to someone walking by before turning back to Lavender. "Then you need to behave! We're in the Halls of Law, not our back garden. Do you see anyone else running wild?"

"No, Daddy," she said again.

"Then kindly act like a witch and not a beast. Do you think you can do that?" He raised an eyebrow at her nod. "I don't hear you."

"Yes, daddy," she answered, then for good measure added, "I'll be good."

He smiled suddenly. "That's better."

The sound of carillon bells rang from his pocket and made him pull his watch out. "S'Whiskers, is it nine already? Come along, we're going to be late."

'It wasn't fair,' Lavender griped to herself as she tried to keep up with Daddy's long strides and still keep hold of Morgana's hand. There were so many interesting things to see and inspect, but Daddy just walked on past like he didn't even see them. She knew Morgana was every bit as curious, but her sister hid it better because she was the _responsible_ one. Anyway, what was the point in going someplace new if you weren't allowed to look…around… Lavender stopped short as they walked through a set of double doors and into a _huge_ room.

It was shaped like an egg, with the (would you call that the floor or the walls?) sloping down to a podium set up at the center and very bottom. At the other end of the room, a thousand candles flickered from where they'd been attached upside-down to the ceiling like a bunch of very large stars. Half-circle balconies, each large enough to hold a heavy table and several richly upholstered chairs, studded the wall/floor from the very bottom to about two-thirds up, while above that, the public balconies ringed the room the rest of the way to the ceiling. On each of the balconies were knots of people talking and gesturing, and sometimes moving to neighboring boxes to talk with the people there.

Leaning forward in his seat (when had they sat down?), Daddy nodded at someone below. "See down there, four rows up? The man with the grey hair and the blue robes who's leaning over to talk to the man in the brown robes?"

There were so many people it was hard to pick anyone out, but finally Morgana asked, "Next to the woman in black?"

"Don't point, Morgana, it's rude," Daddy frowned, and Lavender had the satisfaction of seeing her sister flush and lower her arm. "And yes," he continued, "that's correct. The grey-haired man is Ebenezer Conrald and that's his wife, Lydia, with him. Rough pair to go up against, but they should be more humble after today."

Lavender nodded absently as she studied them. Daddy had mentioned them before, but it was interesting having faces to go with the names. "Who's that next to them?" she wanted to know.

Daddy snorted in disgust. "_That_ would be Conrald's lapdog, Remus Lupin."

Lavender felt her eyes go wide. "Isn't he a _werewolf_?! Why'd they let him in? He's _dangerous_!"

Daddy threw back his head and laughed. "Out of the mouths of babes… Would that everyone here could have heard that," he added, still chuckling. "Why? Because a handful of sentimental morons are insisting on shoving their rot down decent people's… Whoops! Hush, the session's starting!"

'Hush indeed!' Lavender thought to herself, '_Daddy _had been the one talking, not them.'

'Besides,' she added a few minutes later, 'why hush _them _when no one else was shutting up?'

* * *

"There's Michael Brown," Ebenezer suddenly growled into Remus' ear. "_And_ he's brought the kiddies. Bet you anything there's going to be a photographer or two out there when we leave. Smart move on Brown's part, get some pictures circulating, just a 'simple family man'," he continued, framing the words with his hands. "Sure you don't have a cute kid stashed away that we can use, pup?"

Knowing by now to ignore comments of that type, Remus craned his head up to see. Sure enough, there were two little dark heads peering out from Brown's balcony. As one, they realized where he was looking and jerked back in alarm. Poor brainwashed children.

"As a matter of fact, there's going to be quite a few photographers present," Lydia was quietly saying. "An intern in Brown's office put in a tip at several papers that there might be something newsworthy today."

Ebenezer frowned. "This early in the game? I don't like that; what's he got up his sleeve?"

"I don't know. Whatever it is, he's keeping it quiet," Lydia answered, drumming her fingers rather sharply against the tabletop. She seemed to be taking the lack of information as a personal insult.

Ebenezer gave his wife a surprised look before grunting and settling back into his seat. "Then I like it even less. _Nothing_, Lydia?"

"He's been doing a large amount of research, including and especially on werewolves, but nothing that would explain _this_," she said, gesturing in the general direction of the press balcony. "I've had a quick glance through the files he's been ordering, but I can't find anything really earthshattering. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if he's found another source of information and all this other research is a smoke screen to hide that. If that's so, then we've got a major problem."

Ebenezer laughed unexpectedly and rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "Well then! The whelp wants a fight; we'll give it to him!"

He spun to Remus. "I want you keeping a low profile until we can see what his line of attack is. I'm his main opponent in here, but Brown knows you're the public's 'face' for werewolves, and he's going to do his best to take you out with me."

Remus nodded. That was a given. The more he learned about politics, the more he hated the whole thing.

Time wore slowly on. The first speaker waffled on and on until he was interrupted by the lunch break. The second was at least briefer, but his voice threatened to put the hall to sleep. Ebenezer had said once that the man had deliberately cultivated that horrible drone, and that he used it to sneak information and clauses by that might otherwise have been seized upon. Brown didn't even make it to the podium until nearly quarter past three.

Once there, he didn't really say anything new. 'Harsher penalties must be attached to the laws forbidding werewolf breeding…' Remus frowned inside at that particular choice of words. 'Breeding'. It was a word usually attached to animals or livestock, not humans. This was of course why Brown had used it; to make sure the association was there in the minds of his listeners.

'The laws themselves should be tightened or better yet, replaced with the bill he was sponsoring…et cetera, et cetera…' 'Because werewolves all over the country were laughing at the laws designed to protect Britain's citizens…' '_Look_ at this latest criminal…'

Remus felt for the poor girl. She hadn't asked to fall in love, nor to be abandoned by her 'boyfriend' when her pregnancy had been discovered. And though Brown might go on and on about Fate helping to protect the people of Britain, it was no secret that her miscarriage midway through February had devastated her. Remus truly admired her courage in standing up to her attackers and insisting on her rights as a human being. Oh shut _up_, Brown!

It was as if Michael Brown had heard him, because he suddenly looked up. He was fighting to keep it hidden, but a faint smirk tugged at his face. "Of course, while she has received the most publicity, it is no secret that Redpath is not the only one flouting the law. Not two weeks ago, I discovered evidence that a man in this very room, Remus Lupin by name, has been hiding two children of his own."

_WHAT?!_ There was a sudden uproar in the hall that Brown dealt with by talking over. "Right before he entered politics, Lupin severed ties with a schoolteacher named Minerva McGonagall, whom he had been friendly with ever since she'd inherited her late daughter's twins! _Or did she_? What I've uncovered is that she adopted Lupin's illegal offspring and that he then abandoned her _and_ them to prevent the public…_us!_...from finding out!"

This was a nightmare, it had to be. It was with a feeling of watching someone else that he saw himself rise and stride to the front of his balcony. He started to say something, only to be immediately shouted down by Brown. Then the world snapped back into focus and an inferno blazed to life. "Does not the accused have the right to face his attackers?!" he bellowed back. "Do I not get a chance to dispose of your _rubbish_?!"

"Of course I broke ties with Professor McGonagall and her, yes, HER grandsons! Do you think I was ignorant of just what I was getting into with politics?! Since starting this career I have been shunned, denied service, spat upon, even kicked out of a shop while buying food!"

Michael Brown was sputtering, trying to get a word in edgeways. "NO!" Remus roared at him. "NO, YOU ACCUSED ME, IT'S _MY_ TURN TO SPEAK!" Despair and adrenaline both were singing through his veins. He might be at bay, but he'd never felt so alive as he did at this moment. His voice rose again without his realizing it.

"DO YOU THINK I WOULD SUBJECT ONE OF MY FEW FRIENDS TO A LIVING HELL?! _NO_! BETTER TO BE _ALONE_ THAN TO SUBJECT THREE INNOCENT PEOPLE TO EVEN _HALF_ OF WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH!"

The Chairwoman should probably have been trying to restore order, but she was instead sitting back and watching the proceedings with a slight smile. The smile broadened as their gazes met, and she inclined her head in a salute.

The room was in an uproar by now, but one shout cut through the others. "So you _are_ denying the children are yours, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus looked up, trying to find the questioner, and finally located him far above in the press balcony. Reporters were supposed to hold their questions until after a session had ended, but apparently this opportunist had decided that he could get away with it amid the chaos.

"That's correct," he called back up. "And I'm willing to take a paternity test to prove it!"

The chamber, already in disarray, burst into a sea of shouts. The Chairwoman was beating her gavel now, but couldn't make herself heard. With what looked like an inaudible curse, she threw the hammer down, seized her wand, and cast an area Silencer. She glared around for a long moment before finally deciding it was safe to drop the spell and call order. As he walked back to Conrald's table, all Remus could think of was how the _hell_ he was going to explain this to Minerva.


	46. Is a Dish Best Served Cold

Kaboom. Albus didn't believe in laughing in people's faces; but if he did, and if he were to permit himself to show it, and if he were to further allow complete strangers to realize that he was; then this particular situation would probably call for it.

"_Remus'_ and _my_ children?!" Minerva asked in disbelief. At least fifteen reporters stiffened in anticipation and their quills hovered expectantly over pieces of parchment. "_For_ your information, young man," and the man who'd asked the question suddenly wilted under her steely eye, "at the time the twins were born, I was more than twice his age; and thank you very much, I was not romantically interested in 'young and silly' even when I _was_ a student."

Open laughter greeted this sally. Fortunately, the reporter in question seemed to take it in good part and joined in on the amusement.

Albus didn't normally believe in press conferences, but in this particular instance it seemed better than the alternative of having reporters attempting to sneak onto the Grounds to hound Minerva. There was a saying that if a conference were to be scheduled for midnight in Antarctica, that the press would find a way to be there. Judging by the fact that this particular news story had not broken until three-thirty in the afternoon and that it was now six in the evening and he was staring at quite a few reporters, he was now putting somewhat more faith in that old jab at the 'sensationalization industry'.

Minerva was holding up amazingly well, considering the circumstances. Her eyes were bright and she had a tendency to add a bit of a snap to the end of her sentences; but there was nothing indicate that this was the woman whom Albus had been certain was going to strike him only an hour ago. He was not certain that he'd ever seen Minerva in a full-out rage before. He certainly hoped never to see it directed at him again. Speaking of rage, he was going to have to make sure that Minerva didn't decide to hunt Michael Brown down. Hopefully the news that Brown had not done _nearly_ so well with the press today would calm her down somewhat.

Speaking of Brown, tomorrow morning's paper was going to be _very_ interesting, even aside from the present three-ring circus. Brown had apparently already been in a particularly foul mood when he'd discovered that Rita Skeeter had pulled one or the other of his daughters off to one side for an interview. Sadly, aside from the word "vulture", none of the rumors agreed on exactly _what_ Brown had said while 'rescuing' his offspring; except that none of it had been complementary. Albus had a sneaking suspicion that Skeeter's article tomorrow was not going to be nearly as Brown-friendly as previous ones had been. It remained to be seen what articles by other authors would be like.

"Father figure?" Minerva was saying. "He is certainly a good influence, but frankly, my brother-in-law has been in much more of a position to be a role-model than Remus had or has. We corresponded quite a lot, but actual visits were on the order of once every couple of months, if that. Surely a father would want to see his children more often than _that_." The tinge of anger in her voice emphasized the sarcasm and triggered a bought of appreciative laughter in response.

Albus nodded inwardly. There was no knowing what the final articles would be like, but the conference wasn't going so badly. Now he just had to worry about Remus. Albus was doing what he could, but it wasn't looking as though he'd be able to block an arrest, nor a prohibitively high bail.

* * *

"Just follow my lead, keep your mouth shut, and if anything, _anything_ goes south, I want you to Apparate directly back to Headquarters. I'd rather have the office taking the mickey out of you than to have to explain to Abbot how my trainee wound up dead. Understood?"

Sean grinned suddenly at Jeremy's solemn nod. "And relax while you're at it; you look like you swallowed a poker! This is all just a precaution. If Lupin puts up a fight I'm going to be _very_ disappointed." The merriment faded and for a brief moment worry showed through. Perhaps more sharply than he need have, Sean added, "Well, are you coming?" He turned on his heel with a snap and vanished. Jeremy shook his head and followed suit.

They reappeared next to a singularly uninviting apartment building with, as Jeremy discovered when he took a step forward, trash strewn on the ground around it. He didn't get much more of a chance to look around, however, as Sean was already striding towards the front door. For a change, Jeremy managed to catch up by the time Sean had reached the door to #3, The Hole in the Wall.

The man who answered the door didn't seem at all surprised to see them. "Good morning. Come to arrest me, I suppose?" A whistling sound came from behind him and Lupin grimaced. "I don't suppose you could give me a moment? I'd just put the kettle on."

At a gesture from Sean, Lupin turned and strode back into the main living area, where a polished teakettle was indeed whistling cheerfully atop a battered stove. Sean glanced at the stuff on the counter and raised his eyebrows. "A little late for breakfast, isn't it?"

Lupin gave him a rueful look. "Somewhat, yes; but I'd rather expected to be arrested last night, and I didn't give up on you until a few minutes ago."

Sean eyed the foodstuffs again; then held up his hand. "Go ahead and finish your breakfast. The holding cell can wait a few more minutes, and quite frankly, the food there isn't all that good." He tried to settle down on a chewed-looking stool, but a creaking sound convinced him to park his hip on the counter instead. Lupin finally allowed himself to be convinced and started in on his porridge.

From the conversation that followed, Jeremy gathered that Sean and Lupin had known one another for quite some time. It seemed that Lupin had called in a report of prowlers one night just before a full moon and Sean had been the one dispatched. The incident had turned potentially deadly when it turned out that those prowlers had intended to release Lupin from his heavily-warded closet _while_ he was still in his wolf form. Sean had ended up spending the entire night werewolf-sitting.

"Matching him howl for howl," Sean put in with a laugh, "and wondering how _I'd_ managed to get assigned this call!"

"Better you than the Containment Squad," Lupin replied, completely serious. "Most of _them _joined because it gave them a chance to rough werewolves up."

Jeremy found himself forgetting his reserve. Lupin-in-person was a very different man from Lupin-in-the-papers. Far from being either a ravening monster or a dangerous firebrand, the real Lupin was soft-spoken and tired, and tended to wince if he made an incautious movement with his left arm.

Jeremy found himself watching his face to try and see the resemblance to the twins that the papers were all talking about. If you looked closely around the eyes, maybe…no. No, James and Terry had very different facial structures from Lupin. Their hair wasn't even the same color! Jeremy himself probably resembled the twins as much as Lupin did; so did that mean that he had two long-lost brothers? Hah!

The dishes having finished washing themselves, Lupin glanced around to make sure everything was neatly put away. There was an awkward pause that he finally broke with a deep sigh. "Well then, gentlemen. I suppose we'd better get this arrest over with."

* * *

Feral green eyes glared down at the scavenged Prophet, where Michael Brown's picture glowered right below the headline screaming about Brown's vicious attack on Remus Lupin. The werewolf, who looked forty but was actually in her twenties, ran a gnarled finger slowly over the words as she carefully sounded them out. She wasn't aware of it, nor would she have cared if she was, but there was a low growl in her throat. For the third time since she'd started 'reading', the rumble suddenly turned into a howl of rage and the paper went flying out the door of the small hovel she called home. "How dare you! How _dare you!_"

* * *

"And I'm willing to take a paternity test to prove it!" Lydia snarled, not quite under her breath. "_Idiot!_ What did you _think_ they were going to do, line all three of you up and compare faces? Wonderful move, dumbass!"

Much as she didn't want to admit it to herself right now, it wasn't really Lupin's fault. Brown had thrown a particularly nasty bombshell at them and Lupin had done the only thing he _could_. Had he tried to avoid the test, the entire wizarding world would have been convinced that Brown was right. But as things stood now, Lupin's much-quoted explosion had won him more public sympathy than Lydia would have believed possible.

'Brown, now,' Lydia had to chuckle at that thought. 'Not only had Brown managed to lose control _during_ his attack on Lupin, but then he'd compounded it by taking his anger out on_ Rita Skeeter_, of all people! _Great_ move, Brown!' She laughed aloud this time and felt her frustration die down.

All right, Lydia, back to the problem at hand. Original problem: 'wah, I'm accused of being a father and I'm not!' Original solution: 'paternity test'.

New problem: 'um, I forgot, but these kids are werewolves. It wasn't because I bit them, but it needs to stay quiet because they're not registered'. (On second thought, maybe the mess _was_ at least partially Lupin's fault.) New solution: '…erm, break down and throttle someone? Preferably Lupin? Or Brown. Or both of them at once.' …this wasn't helping her train of thought. _Focus_, Lydia!

Ok, maybe it was time to try looking at this from the other side. Exactly what pitfalls might there be? There was the obvious, of course: exposure as werewolf pups. While a paternity test wouldn't catch the altered blood, it wasn't impossible that some healer out for notoriety (or bribed by Brown) might decide to run a few extra tests. There _was_ a healer who'd gained a reputation as incorruptible during a particularly nasty homicide case a few years back. His name would go a long way to cutting off any future rumors of faked tests. But first, she had to make sure that he really was incorruptible; or preferably, corruptible in a direction favoring Lupin.

And this lead to the next issue. Lupin swore he didn't know who was responsible, but he _had_ admitted that the boys had been infected by a bite. This opened up a new can of worms. Assume for a moment that the same werewolf had bitten both the Evans boys and Lupin. Would a test pick up that werewolf 'siblinghood'? Even if it wasn't the same werewolf, was there still the possibility of 'cousinhood'? She did _not_ need a false positive hitting the newspapers!

Lydia dropped her head into her hands and wondered again how she'd gotten mixed up with Lupin.

* * *

Hopeful black eyes sought the Daily Prophet headline only to be disappointed. Severus read just enough of the story to confirm the title, then wadded it up with a snarl of disgust and threw it into his bedroom fireplace.

That blithering idiot, Brown! _All_ the work done for him, the _perfect_ setup, and Brown had gone and managed to blow it! Merlin's bloody toenails, _what_ had possessed him to let Lupin make that speech of his? And of _course_ today's headline was about the paternity test being negative! What the feeble-minded fool _should_ have done was demanded blood samples then and there, and done the test on the spot instead of playing about and giving Lupin time to bribe a healer!

Severus growled again and decided that going up to breakfast no longer appealed; not when he'd have to see Lupin's little bastards. Apparently this was to be his punishment for not tipping off a _competent_ man, such as Malfoy. The more fool he.

* * *

Minor heat waves rippled the air and the sun poured down out of a cloudless blue sky. The small town of Hogsmeade basked in the rays after the long winter and everywhere were people who'd swapped their regular robes for lightweight versions. A couple of students racing each other along the sidewalk had apparently jumped into the lake in the hopes that the unseasonably-hot April weather had made it swimmable already. Judging by all the black scattered amid the more colorful robes, today was a Hogsmeade day, and the students were here in force.

Remus' eyes skipped over to the path leading from Hogwarts, but there was nothing aside from small knots of happily chattering teenagers. Aside from a lack of familiar faces, it might have been any Hogsmeade day back when he'd been a schoolboy. Any moment now James was going to shout in his ear, trusting to the chaos to keep people from noticing the disembodied voice; Peter was going to come racing down the path, having had to run back to the castle because he'd forgotten his money; and Sirius was going to come stalking out of the post office, having sent a dungbomb-laced Howler to Snape. Then James would come out from under the cloak and Sirius would make the usual jokes about tripping over Peter, and they'd all go into the sweet shop.

The image was so strong that Remus actually glanced over at the sweet shop. Students were doing most of these things, but none of them were the Marauders. He forced down his disappointment. Time turned back for no one. This was not his school years, and the looks he was getting from people were confirming that. That was not…actually, that _was_ Professor McGongall. And with her were…oh surely those couldn't be the twins?! Where had the sturdy four-year olds gone? This pair, why, they were almost Hogwarts age!

Minerva loomed up in front of him and he realized just how long he must have been staring. "Bit different, aren't they," she said softly.

"When…how…" It was all he could manage to get out.

There was a suspicious wetness in her eyes as she pulled him into a hug. "Welcome back, Remus."

* * *


	47. Murphy's Law

Minerva agreed with Remus that he was best off staying away from the Hogwarts grounds, so they and the boys instead wandered off into the fields on the other side of Hogsmeade. Remus hadn't thought to bring along a broom, but Minerva offered to go halves on hers, upon which he quickly discovered that the Harry and Dudley sadly outclassed him in the air. He wasn't _bad_, but he was out of practice and completely unused to being tag teamed, despite his old friends. For all their individual Quidditch skills, James and Siri...Black had never quite meshed as a team where a quaffle was concerned. Looking back, Remus suspected that there had probably been over-inflated egos at play. James loved the spotlight and was reluctant to give it up, while Sirius...damn it, Black_, BLACK!_, had never admitted that James was better than him on a broom. How that belief had survived five long years of unsuccessful tryouts, Remus couldn't imagine; but it had.

Unlike the never-forgotten spectres of the past, Harry and Dudley maneuvered like a pair of sharks circling their prey. Only a couple of minutes in, Remus was trying to evade the badgering Harry, only to suddenly have Dudley come up from below and snatch the Quaffle away before he'd realized what was happening. From that point on, Remus rarely had possession of the Quaffle. It didn't take long to appreciate Minerva's foresight in not letting them play with the Bludgers, which had been the boys' first idea. After a little while, Minerva gently convinced the boys that Remus might want to rest, but that they were welcome to fly around and show off for him.

He sank gratefully back onto the grass and just let the sunlight pour down on his face. The calendar might say that he'd spent less than a week in Azkaban, but it felt more like centuries. _"Dementors suck away any happy memories you have…_" he remembered from a long-ago Defense class, but the book hadn't mentioned just how thorough it was. To not remember the emotions of sitting on the grass under the sun with friends was expected. To have _everything_ stripped away but the dim idea that such a thing might have happened long ago, had not been.

And the other memories, the ones he hadn't wanted to remember, _those_ had certainly been strong enough. Lily and James, Sirius' betrayal, of nearly killing Snape, so, _so_ many memories of the wolf inside, the monster he would never be free of… He was ashamed of just how many times he'd dreamed of the wolf instead of losing his friends, of waking up sweating and screaming and wishing desperately that he was free of this curse, that he could spend this time mourning his friends properly…

"_Remus!_"

Minerva's voice seemed to come from miles away. It took an effort, but he managed to turn to look at her.

"Remus, you're shaking! What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing. I was just…thinking. Thinking." She gave him a penetrating stare, but backed off.

"So how long has H…James been left-handed?" he finally managed to ask.

Minerva was visibly relieved at the change in topic. "Since he and Terry got into quidditch. His shoulder never did fully heal after you-know-what. It's good enough for ordinary use, but he can't swing the beater bat properly in his right hand. He taught himself to focus on his left, and when the time came, I just stuck the quill in that hand. He actually writes quite nicely, though essays aren't his favorite homework."

Remus managed a laugh. "That sounds familiar! So what _is_ his favorite subject? Really, maths?"

Six years was a long time. Some things had stayed the same while he was off playing at politics (such as Peeves), but a great deal more had changed. The boys now had a pet…well, it was _half_ dog. It was going to take a little while to get used to the other half, even if it _did_ happily chase sticks; including the one that a wild throw landed high up in an oak tree. It came as no surprise to find out that Spiderlady had been Hagrid's idea.

Speaking of questionable role models, _Filch_ was the boys' idea of a suitable father-figure? James must be spinning in his grave right now. When you considered the amount of time the Marauders had spent in detention because of the old git and Mrs. Bailey (though apparently that cat was now dead and a Mrs. Norris now haunted the school), it was ironic indeed that Harry and Dudley chose to spend many of their nights with the Marauders' old , James Potter was probably doing more revolutions than a pinwheel.

Another surprise was that the boys supposedly looked forward to their time spent 'under the Willow'! Remus took this one with a grain of salt. He didn't doubt that proper medical care and a few painkilling potions greatly reduced the pain of the werewolf transformation, but no potion could turn it into something enjoyable. He remembered trying to hide his anguish from his mother as a small boy; Harry and Dudley had to be doing something similar. And there was more news, oh so much more: running amok through the castle at night, and exactly how they'd first discovered their magic, swimming, and that they might have found a new secret passage to the Owlery.

All too soon the sun was dropping towards the mountains and it was time to part again. As reluctant to say farewell as Remus was, Minerva suggested supper in Hogsmeade.

* * *

'For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.' Albus Dumbledore was bodily sitting in a leather chair tucked into the corner of his barely-moonlit office, but his mind roamed far, far away.

Luck, the Conralds, and an unexpected fighting spirit in Remus had saved the man from conviction and Azkaban. Unfortunately, that very victory had doomed Miss Pamela Redpath. Her trial for 'allowing' herself to become pregnant had been on a knife's edge from the start, and when the howling mobs had had Remus slip from their grasp, they'd turned to Redpath instead. Already a farce, the trial had become a star chamber, and all doubt about the verdict had vanished. Albus' best attempts to save her had done nothing. The only remaining question was of whether she would be convicted to life in Azkaban or 'merely' several years. Considering the average life-span in Azkaban, the difference was probably academic.

The wine Albus was drinking was perfectly good, but it was tainted with the bitterness in his mind. He set the cup down with a grimace.

Remus' political career was recovering better than Albus had had any reason to hope. In other words, he had taken a hard blow, but he was still standing…still fighting. If one counted small blessings, the publicity was at least increasing awareness of werewolf rights. Rita Skeeter, surprisingly, had not yet completely shifted back to full anti-werewolfism. It seemed her portrayal of 'poor-downtrodden-werewolf-Lupin' was still outselling 'shining-knight-defending-us-against-the-werewolf-menace-Brown'. Even so, it seemed somewhat out of character for Rita to still be portraying someone in a positive light. Brown must have called the reporter _much_ more than just "vulture" to have angered her this badly.

Albus' thoughts drifted downstairs to one of the two boys no doubt sneaking back into their room after a nightly visit to Mr. Filch. Very like James, Harry was. _Far_ too much, in this case. Pubic interest was fickle, and all interest in the boys had vanished after Remus' paternity test had come out negative. No doubt there were still _some _people watching, but the immediate threat to their identities was over. And then…and _then…!_ His fingers clenched momentarily on the chair arms before he let out a heavy sigh and slumped forward.

Remus' visit to Hogsmeade had gone well and as Minerva told it, they were mere moments from walking out of the tea shop and saying their goodbyes for the evening. A woman brushing by them had done a sudden double-take at Remus, then spat on his robes before whirling to flounce back towards the door. Harry had recovered faster than the adults and had blocked the doorway, demanding she apologize. Despite Remus' attempts to defuse the situation, neither Harry nor the woman had stepped down; and to make matters worse, Dudley backed his cousin up. The ensuing shouting match had finally ended when Harry spat on _her_ robes and followed it with a loud, "There! Now you're even!"

The incident had hit the papers the following morning with varying interpretations, but the end result was that the boys were firmly back in the public eye. Minerva had already purchased three hooded cloaks for the next time they had to go out in public, but how effective they would be against the likes of Rita Skeeter, Don Harbingway, or Elsa Witchwether remained to be seen.

Albus had been quite thorough when he'd gone through the public records to create the identities of James and Terry Evans, but there was still the chance of an accident. A misfiled document coming to light, a witness to the accident, or an overlooked friend of the late Evans; any of these could sweep away his careful preparations and reveal the boys to their worst enemies.

There had been no sound of footsteps (it was, after all, nearly three in the morning), but the soft sound of Albus' office door sliding open interrupted his musings.

His visitor stood still for a moment, watching to see if anyone or anything had noticed her. Albus did his best to still his breathing lest she hear. Sight he wasn't worried about. The invisibility charm he'd developed in his early twenties had yet to fail him.

Apparently satisfied she was unwatched, the woman turned quickly to Albus' desk and began paging through his mail with the help of her now dimly-lit wand. A sudden catch of breath marked when she found the letter she was looking for. About to tuck it into her robes, she paused and studied it more closely, a frown visible on her face. Albus rather wished he'd paid more attention to how it had originally been sealed, but it was too late now. She finally seemed to decide that she'd misremembered and the letter was quickly tucked away. Minerva McGonagall turned and left the office as silently as she'd entered it.

Albus remained still for some time afterwards. He had not intended to hire Mary MacFusty, but the fact that Minerva had felt it necessary to steal the other woman's job application gave him pause. Usually if Minerva felt a candidate was unsuitable, she said so and the matter was closed. What about Mary MacFusty frightened Minerva so much that she didn't want her superior even _seeing_ the application?

And a secondary matter. The phrasing in MacFusty's letter implied that this was not the first year she had applied, though it was certainly the first that he had seen such a letter. From the expression on Minerva's face when she'd spotted the unopened envelope on his desk that afternoon, recent events had made her forget that the fall applications were due. How many years had this been going on? He was going to have to look into this.

* * *

Another September, another Sorting, another song from the Hat. There were the same tiny, nervous children standing on the stage (aside from the soaked and shivering handful that had apparently had a water-fight on the ride across the lake), the same chattering students at the tables, and the same professors at the Staff Table looking their new charges over. Well, the same aside from the new DADA professor, whom Minerva suspected wouldn't even make it through until Christmas with that brittle attitude of his. Sadly, DADA professors were getting to be hard to find. Perhaps the one big difference was the one lurking in the back of her mind whenever she glanced at the Staff Table.

While once upon a time a pair of small children hadn't looked _too_ out of place, it was somewhat jarring to see two boys who looked as though they should have been at one of the House tables. Even while she unrolled the list and prepared to start calling children over to the Sorting Hat, her foremost thought was that she would be doing this for James and Terry next year. Only a scant year until she lost her babies, just as she'd lost Caroline years and years ago.

* * *

It was a hat, merely a hat. Morgana had been afraid that the Sorting might be a panel of professors or perhaps a written test of some sort. A hat you could argue with if it didn't want to come up with the correct answer. This hat could hardly be more frustrating than Mummy and Daddy.

She heard the old woman, Professor Mc-something, call her name. Even though she'd known it was coming, she found herself gulping for air. The hall seemed to warp itself as she walked forward, reshaping into a narrow tunnel with her destiny at the end. A spotlight shone down on the stool and the hat, while everything else faded and drifted far into the background. Her legs shook, and she barely managed to sit before they collapsed from under her. The Professor lowered the hat over Morgana's eyes.

She jumped suddenly as a voice spoke in her ear. "Well, well, well; what do we have here? Brains, yes, and a curiosity about the world. Loyalty too, and a healthy dash of determination. So let's see, where shall I put you?"

"Gryffindor," Morgana thought as hard as she could. It had been talking to itself and not her, but it didn't seem to be coming to the conclusions that she and Lavender had so carefully decided. Perhaps, like her parents, it needed some help making the right decision.

"Griffindor?" it asked in surprise. "Are you sure? Either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would suit you much better, I think. They're…"

"I'm sure." A moment of doubt intruded and she shooed it away. "They're brave there. I need to learn that courage. Please, just put me in Gryffindor."

The hat seemed taken aback. There was a noticeable pause before it spoke again. "Courage…bravery is something you find from within yourself. I can see your reasoning, but I think you would find it in Hufflepuff just as easily…"

"No!" She was fairly certain her lips had moved that time, and hoped she hadn't shouted aloud and made a fool of herself. "I know what I want; I looked it up before I came. I want Gryffindor. I need Gryffindor."

There was an even longer pause, but when it spoke it sounded resigned. "Very well, then. If that is what you truly want, then 'Gryffindor!' it is." It sounded as though it had shouted the house name to the waiting hall, and the Hat being pulled off her head by a smiling McDu…McB…whatever her name was, confirmed it. She'd done it. She would have to write Lavender before bed tonight and tell her. Her little sister had been so worried.

* * *

September's full moon hadn't risen yet, but if it was anything approaching last night, the grounds would be bathed in white fire. It would be the perfect night to run free on the Grounds, pay Hagrid a visit, or just chase tails on the lawn til he and Terry fell over from exhaustion, then get up and howl at the cold orb overhead. While that would be a perfect 'moon night', James knew perfectly well that the night would follow the usual pattern. They'd already eaten supper in the Great Hall, gone up to their rooms for a few hours, drunk their potions, and were now on their way down to the Shack. Gran was depressingly firm about the most absurd things…what was that?

The three of them came to a sudden halt to listen. This hallway had nothing but classrooms lining it; there should _not _have been anyone here at this hour.

James was just starting to wonder if he'd imagined that frantic sound when it rose again; a muffled voice shouting something unintelligible. There was an odd quality to it, as though the girl were on the brink of tears. Gran checked her watch, muttered something dire under her breath, and strode down the hall to throw open the door to a little-used classroom. Nothing moved. Gran's gaze slowly traveled the room until it fixed on a cupboard door. She marched over and yanked the surprisingly stiff door open. Inside cowered first year Morgana Brown.

"Get away from me!" she shrieked desperately. "Oh please, just _go!_" James had been wrong. She wasn't simply 'on the brink' of crying. Terror distorted her face hideously.

"Miss Brown!" Gran barked. "What is the meaning of this? Get out of that cupboard immediately!"

"I…I…" she wasn't able to spit out more than the stuttered syllable.

James felt his nostrils twitch. Tonight of all nights, his sense of smell was at its strongest, and he could _just_ detect something familiar. "Are you a _werewolf_?"

Brown gasped and plastered herself against the wall. The expression on her face answered the question far better than any words. Gran stared around the tiny cupboard in dawning horror. "You foolish…oh sweet Merlin!"

She yanked out her watch and glanced at it, then spun to Terry. "Go get the green potion off of my nightstand and bring it to the Willow. Run!"

"Miss Brown," she snapped as Terry sprinted out of the room, "get on your feet this instant! We have ten, perhaps fifteen, minutes to get you someplace safe."

The girl clung to the doorframe. "No! No, you don't understand! I can't leave, _I'll attack someone!_ Please, just lock…"

"If you stay here, you'll have the door broken inside of an hour and you bloody well WILL attack someone!" Gran bellowed. "Now get up!"

James darted past her and seized Brown's arm. The idiot at least didn't fight back, and he managed to get her up and moving.

Even with the extra distance, Terry still beat them to the Whomping Willow and was dancing frantically by it when they got there. Once inside the Shack, Gran poured the painkiller down the unresisting girl's throat and helped her take off her shoes and some of her outer clothing. There wasn't time for anything else, James could already feel the tremors as his muscles started twitching.

His last clear memory was of Gran shifting into her cat form while Brown's terrified scream rang in his ears.


	48. Moonlight Shines

_Light…light everywhere, the moon shining down nearly as bright as day. It gleamed off of Lavender's white nightrobe as she darted ahead; seeming to dance as she sprang into the air and spun around laughing. Morgana should have been telling her sister to settle down, but giggles were bubbling from her throat as well. _

Everything hurt, but something was calling to her, setting her blood on fire. One eyelid cracked open, slitting at the ray of light coming through the boarded window.

_The houses were silent; their owners away or asleep. Morgana glanced back once at her own house. It looked odd, dead, with the windows dark. Her parents were peacefully asleep; with the soundproofing deadening any noises from outside. So long as none of the neighbors spotted them, no one would ever know that Morgana and Lavender escaped to hunt for fairies whenever the moon was full enough to see by._

A dark shape slowly picked himself up off of the floor and whimpered softly before extending into a joint-popping stretch. A second, grey form joined him before they both turned to look her direction.

_There was an odd bush with purple flowers in Mrs. Maddox's yard, right by the gate to the back yard. Lavender puckered her brow and went over to investigate, with Morgana following close behind. Her baby sister took a furtive look around before breaking off a branch and tucking it behind her ear. Morgana was about to scold her for stealing, when something in the shadows of the backyard moved._

Twin noses worked the air and the grey one took a cautious step forward. A snarl formed in her throat. Stay away from me!

_Running…running…as hard as she could, Lavender a heartbeat ahead. Their house was right ahead, but her legs carried her agonizingly slowly. A howl filled the air and Morgana glanced back to realize that the werewolf had jumped over Mrs. Maddox's gate. The monster hurtled towards them with ground-devouring strides._

Both wolves took a startled step back at her growl. They both seemed uncertain what to make of her. The grey wolf lowered his front end and wagged his tail in a posture that she somehow recognized as an invitation to play.

_Lavender took a flying leap for the tree that grew by their bedroom window, caught a branch and started swinging herself up. As though in a dream, Morganna saw the branch bend, pause, and suddenly snap. There was no sound save for Lavender's shocked gasp as she fell to the ground. Morgana hurled herself between the beast and her baby sister. There was a flash of pain and she looked down to see her arm caught in the monster's mouth._

A smaller figure stepped cautiously between the two wolves. A cat peered at her, and in the intoxicating light coming through the cracks of the hut, the werewolf found she knew exactly what to do. The cat ran for her life as Morgana charged.

_Green eyes met brown and locked over the limb between them. Gasping for breath, Morgana tried to take a step back, but the werewolf tightened its grip and slowly started shaking its head back and forth, for all the world like a dog playing tug-of-war. A heavy branch slammed into the side of its head, bowling it over. Morgana looked up in bewilderment to meet the white face of Lavender. "What are you waiting for?" she shrieked. "GO!" The spell snapped and Morgana scrambled into the tree and climbed frantically for the window a story above. There was a breeze by her leg as the werewolf staggered to its feet and made one last dive for its escaping prey…and fell short._

Morgana howled in rage at the cat now sitting precariously on a shelf. Another leap failed to seize the cat, but it did connect with the shelf and knocked it to the floor. Getitgetitgetit… She made a rush for the cat and almost connected, only to be bowled over as the two forgotten werewolves both charged her. Fangs gleamed in the moonlight as they fought.

* * *

Morgana's eyes flew open to a world of pain and light. Something moved next to her and she screamed. It took a moment, but the monster finally melted into the anxious form of a very disheveled Professor McGonagall. The old woman gathered the girl into her arms, stroking her hair as Mummy had used to do when Morgana was a baby and had had a nightmare. Details slowly filtered in.

The Professor's rumpled robes looked as though they'd been slept in and this certainly wasn't the castle. Acute embarrassment set in as Morgana suddenly realized that she was naked. There was something twisted around her neck that felt as though it was shredded cloth, but that made no sense. Morgana was being offered a robe that looked like hers, but why wasn't she already wearing it? She was going to be in so much trouble after…after…what _had _happened last night? She tried to raise her arms as the Professor helped her into her robe, and had to bite back a cry. Belatedly she realized that she hurt all over, worse than anything she could ever remember.

Something moved over in the corner.

A naked blonde boy slowly raised himself from the floor, wincing as his joints popped. There was another boy over by the boarded window, naked as the first and already sitting up. Neither of them looked particularly surprised to find themselves there, and both were turning to look at her. Werewolves, her memory supplied. They were both werewolves and she needed to get away before…before… Memory flooded back and Morgana's gaze suddenly flashed down to her hands; the hands that looked deceptively normal, and not at all like the monster's claws they'd been last night…that they would be again next full moon…no, oh no…

Screams ripped her already raw throat and she fought desperately to wake up because this couldn't be happening, no; she had to still be dreaming…

_They'd had one stroke of luck; Mummy and Dad hadn't woken. Morgana fought to keep from screaming from the pain as Lavender, tears pouring down her face, cleaned the wound on Morgana's arm. The harsh bathroom light stared down unforgivingly at the smell of witch hazel and later, bandages, as the bite slowly disappeared under a layer of gauze. An eternity later, they both inspected the somewhat sloppy dressing, before Morgana pulled her sleeve down to cover it. _

There was no waking from this nightmare.

* * *

"You're saying that my daughter is a werewolf? Morgana…_my Morgana?_"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Brown," Albus answered quietly. Minerva's eyes flickered from one man to the other. Albus' expression was sympathetic, but the way he sat hinted that he was braced for battle. Michael Brown, by contrast, was quickly losing the pleasant façade he'd worn when he walked into the Headmaster's Office.

"I know this must be difficult for you," Albus started, only to be interrupted.

"_Difficult?_ We have had our differences of opinion, Dumbledore, but I sent Morgana here because _despite_ all else, I understood that you ran a good school. A _safe_ school! And now you sit here waffling and begging forgiveness for having somehow been _stupid _enough to permit a _WEREWOLF onto SCHOOL GROUNDS!"_ He finished at a full shriek, enough to startle awake the narcoleptic portrait of former Headmaster Winksly.

"Mr. Brown, I assure you…"

"Oh, "I assure you"," Brown snarled viciously. "Rubbish! I _did_ think that even if you lacked the good sense to want to associate with bloodthirsty monsters…yes, _monsters!," _his voice rising as Albus tried to cut in,_ "_read your own damned Magical Creatures textbook!…even if you lacked _any good sense whatsoever_!, you would at least think twice about allowing Remus Lupin…"

"That is enough!" Minerva snapped. Both men jumped, having forgotten her presence. "Even _if_ Lupin were to have decided to take a jaunt into Hogwarts grounds last night, _you are forgetting one crucial fact!"_

She leveled an icy stare as Brown tried to interupt. "Werewolves do not shapeshift the night they are bitten. For Morgana to have undergone the transformation last night, she must have been bitten at least a month previously! May I remind you that the school year has just started? This means that she was under _your_ care when she was bitten, not ours! This also means that _you_ failed to notify _us _of a potentially dangerous situation! Had Morgana transformed in the closet she was attempting _and failing_ to lock herself into, she would have been free to attack anyone in the school!"

There was a deathly silence in the office as the blood drained from Brown's face. "A month ago," he whispered. "_Last month_, are you sure of that?"

"As you said to the Headmaster a minute ago, feel free to read the Care of Magical Creatures textbook," Minerva said mercilessly.

"A month! That's ridiculous, I would have…" His voice trailed off suddenly. "At the end of August, something did happen. Both of them stopped talking, but they insisted nothing was wrong. I thought it was the prospect of Hogwarts coming up. Both of them…both…_LAVENDER!_" He sprang from his chair and started for the door.

"Mr. Brown!" Minerva shouted after him. "Mr. Brown, if Lavender _was_ bitten, you would have known last night! The transformation is not subtle!"

He clung to the doorframe as though it were the only thing keeping him standing. "Can you be sure of that?" he whimpered.

"Mr. Brown, I assure you that if Lavender didn't transform last night, then she was not infected along with her sister." At Albus' nod, Minerva rose and helped Brown back to his chair, where he sunk his head into trembling hands.

"Am I to understand that Miss Brown kept her condition a secret from you?" Albus enquired after a decent interval.

"Never said a thing," Brown moaned. He took a deep, sobbing breath, then lifted his head. "Is there anything that can be done?"

"Nothing medically at this point," Albus answered in a steadying voice, "but we can endeavor to make her transformations as painless and as comfortable as possible. Containment is not an issue, we have a room," shooting a warning glance at Minerva, "on the castle grounds where a werewolf can safely stay during his or her transformations. This room is where Mr. Lupin spent the full moon while he was a student here."

He paused, but Brown simply nodded. "Our Potions Master would be happy to brew up some painkilling potions that work well with the transformation, and obviously our nurse will be working closely with Morgana to help her adjust." He cleared his throat thoughtfully. "In light of recent changes in Wizarding law, you will need to stop by the Werewolf Containment Office to pick up the necessary registration paperwork…"

"No."

Both of them stared at Brown. The man seemed to have recovered from the initial shock and his jaw was set. "No?" Albus enquired. "According to the bill you helped convert to law, all werewolves…"

"I know what it says, damn it! I will not put Morgana through that! It's not her fault that she was bitten! My poor baby…" his voice came close to cracking once more.

"Well guess what, Dumbledore. Your wish has come true and you have me over a barrel." Contempt flickered across Brown's face, but it seemed to be directed internally. "You know perfectly well that I'm not going to permit Morgana to be held up as 'Brown's Downfall: as Portrayed by Rita Skeeter'. So what's your price, Dumbledore? A public apology to Lupin? A withdrawal from politics? I stay in the public eye, but undo everything I've worked towards for the past several years?"

"Damn it, Dumbledore, _what price?_" he shouted.

Albus peered sadly over his glasses at Brown before answering. "I admit to being disappointed. I remember a fourth-year student who requested I have him take a test a second time because he accidentally saw his neighbor's paper and was unable to forget the answers she'd put down. We disagree on many things, but I'd always thought that you'd maintained the integrity you had as a boy."

Brown actually hissed through his teeth. "This isn't about me, you old fart! If it was just _my _reputation, I'd face the consequences without a second thought! And you know what? I'd come back from it, see if I couldn't! But Morgana, she's done nothing wrong. I can't…I _won't_ put her through that hell!" A bitter laugh escaped. "Mutually assured destruction. If you accept and I turn around and try to use this against you; I'm not only destroying myself, I'm destroying my daughter."

Albus pursed his lips. "For Morgana's sake, I will keep her condition a secret. I refuse to use her as leverage, however; not even if you continue to campaign against werewolf rights. Whatever course you choose to take, you have my oath that I will not bring Morgana into it."

Brown licked his lips; hinting at just how close to the breaking point the normally-composed politician was. Minerva glanced from one man to the other. Albus was playing a dangerous game. Students showing the body language Brown was were usually about one step away from going and doing something incredibly stupid. She decided to throw Brown a bone; some information he could feel he had squirreled away against them.

"Mr. Brown, as you may or may not be aware; I am not only the Transfiguration Mistress here, but a third-ranked member of the Wizarding Transmogrification Circle, and a registered Animagus. I had been considering teaching my grandsons the basics of the Animagus transformation, but I would like to extend the offer to Morgana as well."

The vertical crease between Brown's eyebrows deepened. He knew he was being offered something, but wasn't yet sure what. "I'm aware that the Animagus transformation gives immunity to werewolf infection, but I don't see how that would help…"

His voice trailed off. She could practically see his mind replaying her words, over and over again bumping into the seemingly innocent mention of the boys. "Is there a particular reason you were going to teach it to them? That isn't exactly the safest line of study, particularly for children at their level of schooling."

Out of the corner of her eye, Minerva saw Albus give her a small nod of approval. It was still hard to spit the words out. "There is. Becoming an Animagus involves, among other things, training the body to swap between forms. I had thought that this training might help ease…certain other transformations." She couldn't quite get the word 'werewolf' out. Brown's eyes widened nonetheless.

"I knew it! I _knew_ Lupin faked that paternity…" reality caught up and he threw his hands in the air. "Of course. I finally get the information I need to nail Lupin, and I can't touch it! So. One or both of your 'grandsons'…"

"Both," Minerva put in.

"Both, then; are werewolves. I'm going to hazard a guess here and say that since the Animagus transformation reveals the inner self, there's a good chance that you were planning on them becoming _unregistered_ Animagi since there's a damned good chance that their shapeshifts are going to _be_ werewolves. Which you don't want widely known. Which means that Morgana will also be unregistered."

He studied her for a long moment. "So let me get this straight, Professor. You just took 'mutually assured destruction', and upped the ante to 'complete annihilation'. Either of us breaths a word about _any_ of this, and we get to admire the beautiful scenery of Azkaban for the rest of our lives. Not to mention our children get handed off to an orphanage while in the middle of a media feeding frenzy."

"I believe that sums things up quite well." Her throat kept wanting to close on the escaping words.

He actually laughed, a hard and brittle sound that echoed unnaturally from the walls before dying a harsh death. "Very well. I accept on one condition: include Lavender in that training. It may be too late for Morgana, but at least I can try and protect _one_ of my daughters." He stood abruptly.

"I'll take Lavender to Ollivander's immediately. Will Sunday afternoon at 2 work for the first lesson?" At Minerva's nod, he continued. "Very well, we shall be here at 2 sharp. Now if you'll excuse me, I want to see Morgana."

Albus finally broke the silence after Brown's departure. "That went rather well, considering. It wasn't _quite_ the way I'd hoped to bring up the boys' lycanthropy, but it worked well regardless."

Minerva straightened back out of her relieved slump and fixed the Headmaster with a gimlet eye. "What were you playing at, telling him to go ahead and keep pushing anti-werewolf legislation through? Were you _trying_ to push him away from a compromise?"

Albus just chuckled. "Never fear, he'll be withdrawing from that particular battlefield. If you blackmail a man, he'll always be looking for a way out. By allowing him to _choose_ his course of action, you give him a stake in continuing that course."

His expression grew more serious. "His moral fiber has weakened since his student days. There was a time when he would have never considered making such an offer, no matter the consequences. I just can't decide if it's due to his family being threatened, or if it's the natural consequence of becoming a politician. It's a rather serious distinction," he added.

Minerva couldn't have cared less at the moment. "Either way, it works in our favor. Now before I leave, I wanted to talk with you about Morgana's behavior last night. I'm not sure I like the idea of putting her in with the twins, not after seeing how vicious…

* * *

The rain poured down as though it were running late for an appointment with the ground. He could feel it pushing against his skin, trying to bring him to the earth, but his broom kept him suspended between sky and ground. The water was forced to admit defeat and ran down his body, taking with it the mud that he'd tripped and fallen into earlier. Neville carefully let go of the broomstick and raised his arms until they were straight out.

His eyes slowly closed. With nothing but the rain surrounding him, it was easy to imagine that his arms were scaly wings and that a dragon soared hundreds of feet in the air. He could feel the warmth of flame inside him and the rain run off of his scales instead of soaking into clothing. The breeze shifted under him and he tilted his wings to catch it…

Whump!

Neville blinked rapidly and picked himself up from the ground again. He was a little startled, but the grass had cushioned his fall. He carefully got back onto his broom and set it hovering where the grass was _just_ out of reach if he pointed his bare toes.

He was flying, soaring higher than any other creature dared go…

* * *

A bell tinkled softly as Gran pushed the door to Ollivander's open and slipped inside. She glanced quickly around the dim, uninhabited room, then gave a sigh of relief and pushed the hood of her cloak back while waving him and Terry in. She was just opening her mouth to give them instructions, when a voice behind the counter spoke. "Why good morning, Professor!"

James sprang back and tripped over the spindly chair behind him. That man had _not_ been there a second ago! A pale figure hastened from behind the counter as James tried to disentangle his legs from the chair's. "Dear dear, you haven't come to hurt, have you? That chair, it always seems to be in the way."

Standing again, and putting a little distance between himself and the strange man, James shot a quick glance at his family. Terry was fine, if wide-eyed, but Gran was wincing and gingerly rubbing her elbow. Mr. Ollivander was looking curiously from one face to another. "So these are Caroline's boys. They take more after their father, I suppose? I would have liked to have met him…though I suppose as a Muggle he wouldn't have been much interested in a wand. Gracious, I hadn't expected to see these two until this summer! Getting a head start on their education?"

"Yes indeed," Gran answered firmly. "Ten is not too early to start in on the basics. Besides," and her voice took on an edge, "with all the reporters we've had stalking us, I'd prefer the boys to know their basic hexes." The two adults shared tight smiles.

"Excellent point, Professor!" Ollivander agreed. "Shall we get started…oh, what's this?" His eyes widened at the sight of the wand Gran had just handed him. "I could swear…why, yes it is: oak and phoenix feather, ten and a quarter inches, pliable; an excellent wand for transfiguration! The feather came from a particularly fine phoenix, has given me eighteen feathers so far and all of them have made quite good wands. Yes yes, very good wands indeed, and this _particular _one I sold to Alec Martin when he started Hogwarts twenty-one years ago."

James shared a glance with Terry. Did the man ever stop talking?

"But how extraordinary!" the pale man was exclaiming in response to Gran's explanation. "Yes, I would be surprised indeed if this wand had not taken a new owner. Who did the actual disarming?"

Terry gulped and slowly raised his hand. Ollivander immediately scurried over and patted him on the back while simultaneously pressing the wand on him. "Now which is your wand arm…good, good. Now, give it a try!" He backed off a few paces and watched in anticipation.

Terry looked uncertainly to Gran, who nodded encouragingly, then he shrugged and gave it a sharp swish and flick. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Ollivander all but squealed in delight and hurried over to rescue the wand box that was drifting dangerously close to a towering stack of empty boxes. "Excellent! Here, let me just take it and check for damage…no, it's fine; you've been keeping it well-maintained. There now!" and somehow the wand was suddenly in a box and being presented to Terry with a bow.

"There now," he said again, and James had to fight the urge to jump back as Ollivander descended on him. "Which is your wand arm…oh really, your left?" He stopped and looked up in surprise, then shrugged it off. "Left, then. Let's restart those measurements," he instructed the tape measure circling James' ankle. Then he was off, darting here and there among the dusty shelves.

"Let's see, perhaps this one. Holly and dragon heartstring, ten inches, springy. Go on, give it a wave…no, no; here, try this one. Hazel and unicorn hair, twelve and three-quarter inches…perhaps not. Give this a swish: vinewood and phoenix feather, eight and a quarter inches…"

James quickly lost track of how many wands he'd tried. A pile of boxes was mounting on the counter and everything was starting to blur together. Ebony…oak…yew…hazel again… Terry, who was sitting in the chair and starting to look bored, had been lucky. _He'd_ gotten his wand handed to him; _he_ didn't have to worry about having to borrow Gran's wand. It might help if Ollivander didn't seem so delighted about the whole thing.

"A tricky customer, but don't worry, we'll find your wand…here, give this one a wave…no, let's try this one…hmm, perhaps…" and he seemed to have taken the wrong box down, "oh dear, this one was not…well…" and he actually paused for a moment to consider, "yes, why not. Not what I would have picked for Caroline's son, but your measurements seem to contradict…here, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple; an unusual combination, but…"

James suddenly lost all track of what Ollivander was saying. The wand felt _alive_ somehow, almost as though it were an old friend that had been waiting for him. He raised it to eye level and swished, and a shower of red and gold sparks poured from its tip.

Gran had tears of pride in her eyes, while Terry gave an exaggerated yawn and pretended to be waking up, which made James stick his tongue out at his brother. Ollivander didn't seem quite so happy now, and he kept repeating, "curious, curious," while he wrapped up the box.

James finally had to ask. "Sorry, but what's curious?" He saw Gran try to wave him off, but Ollivander was already answering.

"I remember every single wand I've ever sold, Mr. Evans. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather, just one other. That wand did many great things before it and its owner were defeated by the Boy Who Lived. Terrible, yes, but great. Curious indeed that your measurements are very like his." His head tilted to one side as he studied James. "Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Evans."

James swallowed. For a moment he wanted to drop the wand, then the warmth against his palm reminded him of the moment he'd first closed his hand around it. A wand that felt that friendly couldn't be evil…could it? Terry was eyeing the wand with the same unease James felt inside.

"I'm sure it can't help who its brother belonged to," Gran said abruptly. "I don't believe even Chelsea Mooncalf has proposed a link between corruption and wands." Having made up her mind, she briskly pulled out her bag. "Now, I owe you how much?"

James' spirits rose once they were back outside in the warm sunlight. None of this had gone the way he'd imagined, but it was over and he had a wand of his own. Gran was right: no wand that felt like that could be Dark. He lost himself daydreaming of Hexing Peeves until the poltergeist turned tail and fled.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was hardly a stranger to sleepless nights, but he _had_ been hoping that this particular milestone would pass uneventfully. Harry might not have had a usual upbringing, but it was hardly one to be sneezed at. He had a brother, a loving mother-figure, respectable role models, and seemingly a fair grasp of right and wrong. And yet, _that_ wand had been the one to pick him, and not for lack of other choices. A fascinated Ollivander and a perturbed Minerva had both stressed just how many wands he'd tried.

Albus studied his pensieve for a long moment before carefully adding two more silver threads to the swirling mass. A tall, handsome boy rose up and stood rotating atop a silver floor. Albus rested his hands on the edge of the Pensieve and sighed heavily. It was looking more and more as though he had been correct about the nature of the link between Tom Riddle and Harry Potter, and that was one guess he would have preferred to be wrong.

Speaking of peace of mind, granted that wand was a rather unusual combination, but he must make sure that neither Minerva nor Harry ever found out that that wand had waited nearly thirty years for its owner to claim it.

* * *

**Author's note:**

** As Stephy-Lou Clark-Weasley and Quacked Lurker reminded me in the comments for the last chapter, I stuck a segment (specifically: Percy becoming a prefect) in a summer too soon. Whoops! I'll be removing that section and putting it in chapter 49 or 50 where it belongs. Thanks for the sharp eyes! **

**Also, you've probably noticed that we're coming up very quickly on age 11 for the twins. Yes, this story will be ending there. However, there will be a sequel (or two, depending on how many chapters the school years take up) By the Dark of the Moon that covers Hogwarts. So if anyone's interested in what happens after this story is complete, check my profile for the sequel. I may also put in a link to the next one at the bottom of the last chapter. I apologize in advance for my glacial updates. *sigh* Isn't procrastination wonderful? Happy Spring to you all!**

**P.S. I don't know how many of you are music fans, much less listen to music while reading, much less are interested in what goes through a writer's head while s/he's writing; but music and stories are closely intertwined in my head. One is rarely there without the other. If anyone (because of insanity or anything else) is at all interested in what I had on loop while I was writing this chapter, try playing Two Steps From Hell 's song/soundtrack "Freedom Fighters" while reading the first and last sections of this chapter.  
**


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